Who's That Girl?

... With the bloke's hair cut? Oh. My. God. What the heck have I done? So, here's how it happened...

I have a mobile hairdresser come to my house. She's been cutting my family's hair for years and years and is lovely and does a cracking trim. However, I should, by now, have learnt my lesson when it comes to a restyle and go to a salon, but the trouble is that she is so very reasonably priced and convenient. Every so often, she gets it just right and I'm dead chuffed with the result, but, on more than one occasion, I have sworn that it's the last time and I will have to start asking for recommendations for a new stylist.

Now, I'm not at all precious about my hair. I grow it long, I cut it all off, I dye it all sorts of colours. At the end of the day, it's just hair and it will grow back - quickly, in my case. We're off on a camping holiday soon, so I thought it would be a great idea to get a lovely, easy-to-manage gamine crop, so I don't have to faff with straightners and all sorts of products, or spend the week looking like a chav in a baseball cap. I've had it cropped before - it was very nice, thank you. My hair wasn't exactly long earlier today, so I wasn't expecting a huuuuuge difference...

Eeeeeeek!!!! I swear there was a small furry mammal on the patio after she had finished! I thought we had gained a strange-looking dark bunny. Who knew so much hair could be cut from an already short hair-do? She hands me the mirror - "it's great!" I say. "It'll be fine once I've washed it and put some wax on it," I think to myself. It wasn't. I ran upstairs to dye it and hide the remnants of the increasing number of white hairs that seem to be appearing lately. I dried it (it took about 30 seconds!) and I styled it. It looked THE SAME!!! I reckon I could have done as good a job with a set of clippers and a number 3 guard on the blade.

I sent D a warning text. He hates it when I do this to my hair and I'm sure he'd much prefer it long, but it's not his hair, is it? He phoned, I cried and became somewhat hysterical. I never cry over my hair. He told me he will work as much overtime as is humanly possible so that we can afford for me to go to a salon next time. I tried re-styling it and putting on lots of makeup to look more girly. Finally, it didn't look too bad.

So, I am being very brave... Here I am now (remember, I am a 29 year old woman, not a 15 year old boy):

See that? That's what they call a 'brave face'. Now all I have to do is sit and wait for it to grow...