When hair attacks….

I have the worst hair days....

 

My mother is not a woman obsessed with her appearance, she’s got better things to be getting on with from day-to-day. She doesn’t wear a lot of make-up and has her hair cut once every 6 months. And she looks great.

So growing up…I’ve sort of found out about make-up and hair from scraps and tidbits that I’ve managed to glean from loads of sources….Friends, family, magazines…. and I’ve managed to cobble together a style of my own.

Unfortunately, I’ve also been blessed with my fathers problem skin (which I can handle) and both of their unruly hair traits. I have LOADS of fine hair that molts like crazy…I can actually pull chunks out in the shower…. and split ends seek me out and hunt me down.

Having a mop for a head-covering has grown on me, but I can remember being 12, wincing and not able to get a brush through it due to all the rat-tail knots.

As I have grown up I’ve all but given up having that beautiful hair that my friends seem to have, all light and shiny and that stays looking amazing all night. (I hate you girls! x)

I, since the age of 15,  have resigned myself to the fact that the only style I can pull of with some result is big rock chick tussle. It means it can look like crap and people think it’s a style….

And then foolishly, two years ago, in my Twilight novel phase, I became obsessed and I wanted Bella hair. Long and beautiful and brunette. I could do it…I wanted long Rapunzel romantic hair!

The last part wasn’t really an issue seeing as I am a brunette, although somewhat already tinged with white and grey (Another gift from my Father’s side of the family).

The other two, the long and beautiful would take some time and effort. So I prepared my bathroom with conditioners and balms and serums to take care of my locks. And watched the weeks fly by…

So two years later? Am I happy with my gorgeous Bella hair? Well…..it’s still brown.

 

I was reverted back to my 12-year-old self trying to pull a brush through my tresses. It didn’t matter how much conditioning I did, my hair hated being long.

P used to lay on it, or it would get wrapped around his arms mid-sofa snuggle and tug it all out of my head.

I’d have to wrap it all up tightly in a huge low bun, and it would get ripped apart by the wind on P’s motorbike.

Also….I couldnt get any volume into it without burning it to a crisp in tongs. So I reverted to sleeping with it in plaits to add volume next day and I felt like I was 6.

NOT A FAN.

Things came to a head last Sunday. I had just turned over in bed and squealed as I realised P was laid on my hair again. I lost my temper and thought about getting the kitchen scissors out. I was sick to death of my locks, sick enough to do some damage with ikea scissors.

I decided enough was enough and that I needed a haircut. I needed to look better than this drowned rat waif with frizzy plait hair. I didn’t look like me. I didn’t look sure and strong and able to tackle anything. I looked like a big jessie with shit hair.

But the last person I really trusted with my hair was the owner of Time in Bournemouth. And that was at Uni. 2 years ago. Since then, I’d been going and getting trims in Supercuts all over London. Not the best idea I know, but I was poor and didn’t have the time to hunt down a decently priced salon with a stylist that I liked.

Why is it that finding a hairdresser is so difficult? All I want is someone who will listen to what my life is like and do my hair accordingly!

And I want to find them straight away….I don’t want a mistake with my hair the first time I’m back in a salon….I’d probably be too traumatised to go back in one again for another 2 years….

Thank god for online reviews.

I found a nice looking and non-expensive salon (£29 for cut and blowdry) in Brighton with 8 really good reviews. Plucking up the courage, knowing that my hair couldn’t get any worse than its current stringy state, I called them assoon as they opened and got an appointment for a few hours later.

My stylist was lovely and did exactly what I wanted, without all that ‘Are you off on your holidays soon?’ crap.

And best of all….I look like me again. 🙂 Rough and ready Rock chick bob. Easy to style and maintain.

Why is it that life is so much easier when your hair feels and looks good?

 

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