They got me first thing this morning. I was pulled out of bed bleary eyed to be put on the phone to family hairdresser who wanted to know what I’d done etc etc. She came round, took one look at my hair and looked awful.
I take some tiny bit of pleasure in the fact that the idea of me wandering about with such awful hair causes extreme amounts of pain to professional hair style people.
I got taken down to a salon in fareham to have my hair corrected. I didn’t really have much choice – it sounds lame, but my mother REALLY hates it, and she’s been good to me lately. She’s got me into some cranial-oestopathy lectures this thursday, and I don’t want to let her down by looking like a freak.
3 and a bit hours later and several chemical applications, and my hair is back to normal. A normal, boring, consistant brown colour. Yes, it looks *better*. But… I feel almost like I admitted defeat somewhere along the lines. Joined the ranks of people who look the same.
Brown is such a flat, sensible colour. I actually *feel* less bouncy already.
On the other hand, now maybe it’s time for me to express my individual and quirky personality through what I have to *Say* rather than the colour of my hair?
The only weird thing is, the relfection og myself in windows and such still seems to be half black/orangey blond. I don’t understand.
I actually had to force myself to eat something today. I’m going off now to make myself eat some vegetables. bleh.