I never thought I’d be doing a post about hair…
It’s perhaps more appropriate for a woman to do a post about hair but what the hell, let’s do this.
I’m not obsessed with my hair but thinking about events from previous years, which I will come to later, have made me reflect. I won’t go as far to say I Am My Hair as Lady Gaga did. I do love that song and sort of understand what she is on about, well, as much as anyone can understand the Gaga.
Hair is the first thing I notice about a person and I guess it forms the basis of my first impressions.
Basically, if you have crap hair I won’t like you until you go visit British Hairways, Head Office or Curl Up & Dye. You’ve got to love the puns that hairdressers use.
My hairdresser is called Laura, no pun intended. Oh wait, just no pun. She’s lovely and I’ve been going to her for about 8 years. I like our bi-monthly chat about holidays, reality tv and food – oh, and she cuts my hair too!
I would say I was quite lucky as I’m 39 and still have some hair. Obviously, it’s receded and sometimes I am shocked when I see where my hairline once was. I’m often reminded of this when I see a long hair growing out from halfway down my forehead. On second thoughts, maybe it’s not where my hairline used to be, maybe it’s just one of those “random long hairs”. You know, the single hairs that just suddenly appear in odd places overnight like it’s been fed fertilizer while you slept. Anyway, I have lots of hair and it’s pretty much the same colour as it’s always been. I have a few grey hairs in my sideburns but I can deal with that. Silver fox and all that but I would rather have all grey hair than be bald.
Does it make me a bad person when I love seeing people who I knew back in the day when they had “model” hair and now they are completely BALD!
When I was at school the fashion was to have a centre parting. Think a big pair of hairy curtains covering your eyes and that was it. For some guys it just went like that but no, not for me. My hair isn’t straight but it’s not overly curly. Certainly not as curly as one of my flatmates at University who had the nickname “pubic wig head Dave” – charming bunch, weren’t we.
Yes, so I desperately wanted to have the hairy curtain look and this was the days before guys used GHD hair straighteners – so what did I do? I would make sure my hair was combed down the side of my head before going to bed and press it against the pillows while I slept. Thus, I would wake up with hairy curtains or, more often than not, I would wake up with only one hairy curtain as I forgot to turn over during the night. On the days I did manage it, as soon as I went outside and bearing in mind I live in Scotland, it would either be blown all to hell or the rain would make me look like Diana Ross (credit to Friends for that one). Years later I have been told by people looking at pictures of me then that I looked like McLovin from Superbad.
The years went by and the fashion changed and I decided I wanted to bleach my hair. The less said about that the better as the massive brown eyebrows kind of speak for themselves. The actual hair bleaching process was fun as we did forget to remove the lid from the mixing bottle so there was a mini explosion resulting in unwanted colour changes of the carpets, our clothes and possibly a lampshade.
I discovered hair straighteners about 10 years ago – pretty much the same time as I discovered what burning hair smelled like, funny that….
I once grew my hair far too long and realised my error when we went on holiday. Sitting in a restaurant in 25 degrees Celsius, feeling like you have a furry pet sitting on your head whilst wiping sweat from your face with the table cloth is not a good look.
That pretty much brings me to where I am today with my “sensible haircut” as modeled by the fabulous Gary Barlow. But, I’m not finished. In fact, I’ve not even got to the part that I really wanted to talk about and I’m not even sure where all of the above came from…
Greg started losing his hair a few years ago. When I first met him he had lots of hair and styled it to death. He was the one that introduced me to hair straighteners and now when he sees me using them he is so jealous I’m sure he wished a spark would fly and set my hair alight a la Michael Jackson in the Pepsi advert. Greg has his hair short and uses clippers every so often to keep it that way. A few days ago he was trimming it and asked me to help with the “pubey” bits at the back, as he calls them. Okay, I said and he handed me the clippers. The lesson to be learned here is to never assume (makes an ass of u and me) as I assumed he still had a guard on the blade. No. Big no! As I zip the clippers up the back of his head and I realise there’s no guard when I see a his shiny head peeking through his thinning hair….
Oopsy I thought to myself but said nothing. Maybe he won’t notice. Maybe if I hide the handheld mirror he won’t be able to use that to see the back of his head in the big mirror. Too late, he’s using and it and there is swear words everywhere.
He is NOT his hair.
“I can blend it in, I can blend it in”, I try to reassure him knowing full well I could blend it in as well as Madonna could blend in at a convent. Anyway, it was too late, he started using the unguarded clippers on the rest of his hair. In anger. There was practically bits of skull hitting the shower screen and I exited, stage left.
I returned to the bathroom to find Lex Luthor in my shower and my superpowers were useless against his wrath. Lex Luthor’s superpowers are apparently slamming doors, shouting, stomping on the floor and more shouting. The powers subsided and gave way to silence. Silence Of The (overclippered) Lambs….
The silent mistreatment (it wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t my fault) continued for the rest of the night, the next morning and also the car journey to work. I toyed with the idea of buying him a nice hat or some funny Halloween wig but I refrained as I quite like my liver. If I went home with a green witches wig, my liver would have certainly been served up with a nice Chianti and some fava beans.
In the car on the way home once I’d got my vision back after been dazzled by the headlights bouncing off Greg’s head, things got back to normal.
Did people at your work like it, I asked. No, he said, they just said ooooh – what happened. You have no idea how much I wanted to sing some Lady Gaga at that point.
I am my hair. Greg was his hair…well a few weeks later.
Note: no pictures were posted of Greg here due to the unsafe blinding light that would be caused by the flash reflecting from his head.