Thursday, January 03, 2008

Because I'm not worth it

I was worried the hair was starting to morph into a mullet.

Fact is, when you are completely bald and your hair grows from the follicle, at the same speed, you end up with the same length all over. Which means that when it's shorter than an inch, you end up looking weirdly buzz cut on top, and when it starts to grow longer than an inch or two, it starts to curl out around and below your ears and you end up looking like a punk trying to become a new romantic. Or German.

Whichever way you look at it (with apologies to my German friends) it's not good.

So yesterday I took action. I discussed my mullet fears with colleagues during our lunchhour and then presented one of them with a pair of the sharpest scissors I could find.

Please cut my hair! I pleaded.

Just the mullety bits mind!

So I had no comeback when, a few minutes later, she'd exclaimed "Oh shit" one too many times for me to remain confident and there was hair all over my jumper. It seems you need to go to a professional salon in order for your hairdresser to remember to put a towel round your shoulders.



To be honest, she'd not done too badly. It looks a little ragged around the bottom edge, but she'd not left me bald and she'd got rid of the dreaded mullet effect. Within a week all the hard edges will soften up a bit and it will look quite professional.

Lets face it, I was not going to shell out £50 for a full priced haircut when all I needed was a mullet-trim...

P.S. I don't like the fact the photo above makes me look like I have a cartoon chin. That's the other new year's resolution. Lose some weight goddammit. Not helped by my attempts to play badminton last night thwarted by turning up to an empty church hall. Looks like they're on their christmas holidays still.

3 comments:

Amanda Castleman said...

Aren't you tempted to fauxhawk that hair? Just to shake stuff up at the office? You can always blame your co-worker's cut, which might yield Guilt Chocs.

My locks are long. But if I ever snip 'em – for illness or grey-growth or whatever – I plan to be a perfect beast: dye it neon red, flame-cut, make topiary shapes with egg-whites...

Then again, there's something to be said for balancing the bank book as a hobby...

Anne-Marie Weeden said...

If I use enough wax, I can get the middle of the top of my hair shaped into a perfect fin.

I had dreams of experimenting with lots of colour while it was this short. A lifetime brunette, I fancied trying honey blonde as an experiment. Or a sort of indecent red or orange just to shock.

But the sad truth that while I can probably start using chemical dyes from next month onwards if I wanted to, I find myself feeling less brave.

It seems after nine months of 'standing out' because of weird, medically-induced hair disasters (or complete absences) I am just desperate to blend back in.

Baaaaaa.

(That's my sheep impression, by the way)

Amanda Castleman said...

When I was a preteen, I disliked washing my hair after swim practice. It turned green and crunchy. The hairdresser pointedly donned gloves to cut it ALL off (long before such safety measures became the norm).

I was flat-chested, big-eyed and had a ragged two inches. Women would scream when I walked into the ladies' loo.

Desperate, I'd scrape the bits into a bannana clip, which formed a sort of Roman gladiator ridge. This I used to great effect in my bid for 8th grade class president. My slogan: win with the fin!

(My political hopes were dashed. But I'm still hoping for a consolation Oscar like Gore's).

Anyway, Anne-Marie, I grew my hair out and NEVER looked back. So you have company in the sheep paddock.