When I was younger it was a wavy thick mass of auburn, shiny goodness. The sort of hair you took out of a french roll and it fell winningly around my face and shoulders. (God who says winningly!) In my childhood it was worth running your fingers through - however inappropriate that might seem and it and matched my brown eyes perfectly. Seriously, I liked it.
Through my late teens, I used to wash it then flatten it seriously with a silk scarf before using a plethora of tongs and curlers and dryers and twisters to give me that alluring femme fatale look.
By the time I finished University, I'd mastered the 80's boofy look (I couldn't work out how to spell the Carlton Cressley trademark "zhuzhhhh") and used pretty combs and glitz for a bit of glamour. As kids came along, short and practical took lead and until my daughter told me that my hair, combined with my love of trousers and sensible shoes made me look like a lesbian (and she accuses me of stereotyping) I decided to let it grow a little longer. Don't get me wrong, the gay comment didn't phase me, it was the thought that perhaps I was sending the wrong message that needed correcting.
I did have it chemically straightened once but I had it coloured at the same time and ended up losing clumps . The good side, I had free haircuts from my lovely hairdresser for a year she felt so guilty.
All went quite well for a year or two until I asked DrummerBoy to snip a couple of inches off it while it was wet and ended up with a triangle head resembling Wallace's girlfriend Gwendoline! Actually, it was the same haircut that Halle Berry had for a while but didn't look half as nice as hers! If I was black, I'd have great hair!
Gwendolene November 2007
Now 12 months later, (seriously, I haven't been to a hairdresser since November 2007) it's in dire need of a trim and a professional colour, one with loads of foils and highlights. The infiltration of wiry grey made it even more unmanageable and I'd die without the help of No Frizz Defining Curls.
Naturally ladies, in my refusal to grow old gracefully, I dye my own hair. $12 worth of Preference Nut Brown and a shit load of Vaseline around the hairline to prevent the appearance if instant strawberry birthmarks and Bob's yer uncle for 12 weeks until the rootage shows through. I've ruined many a T shirt in this process and now have a delightfully blotched number that is reserved just for the hair tinting process. Between hair dye and bleach splodges, I've barely got an item of clothing that hasn't been tainted by the cleaning or dyeing process.
I took half a day off today to go to my old hairdresser, who now has a little salon in her garage. She also has curly hair and I've never known anyone who can cut it with such style and precision. However, because she's a yummy single mummy, her hours are short and her bookings harder than getting elective surgery on the national health.
I plonked along dutifully at 9am to greet the lovely Michelle who looked a little surprised . Then she hasn't seen me for about 4 years so . . . nope, I hadn't changed that much. In fact she commented that I 'looked good' (love hairdressers, they always say the right thing). But apparently I was . six days early! My appointment is for next Tuesday! Damnit I'd even taken my book to start whilst 'proving' during the colouring process. So with tail between my legs, I cranked up the Honda - had to dip home first because thinking I was going to be coiffed, I had paid no attention to my mass of frizzy goodness - and arrived at work an hour and a half late. It seems my forgetfulness is a point of much hilarity with the underlings who delighted in telling me that I'm an old fart, losing the plot and have the memory of a gold fish!
Thommo emailed and said "Are you bewfulls" . . upon hearing the story replied "You Looney"
That's for Jay at the Depp Effect - maybe now she'll put me on her blogroll! He he he! Shameless plug. And God he's got great hair!
Better still TheBoss (unaware that I had arrived without the 'do') "Jesus, I hope you didn't pay for that haircut!" Smartass!