Now, as the asshole pointed out earlier this week, I am overdue for a haircut so I’m headed to the salon this morning. I’m going to have a colour treatment too, fool the silver into posing as blonde, as you do. All sounding good so far? It’s probably the two most miserable hours I’ll spend this month. I look forward to hair appointments as much as my dog looks forward to going to the vet.
We have different stressors obviously…he worries about the thermometer, having had several temperature checks by stealth over the years. It’s the only time he ever sits without being asked and stays sitting. Me, I worry about leaving the salon with my hair styled in the shape of a cauliflower now I’m flirting with fifty, and I’m fat.
What if, the trendy young string bean wielding the scissors can only visualise that cauliflower hairstyle when she looks at me? What if, my request for a soft and choppy layered look falls on deaf ears because it’s clearly too edgy a style for me, in her youthful skinny opinion? What if I come out of there looking like my mother?
I will be forced to sit in a chair which is a bit too small, in front of a full length mirror, draped in a black nylon cape for two hours by a skinny girl who will cover my head in tinfoil and bake me under a heat lamp. I don’t do mirrors as a rule, but today I shall be forced to sit and stare at myself for TWO. WHOLE. HOURS.
It’s going to be torture. All I’ll see balanced on top of the big black dome of a cape is several chins followed by chubby red cheeks topped off with a head full of little silver squares…the asshole in my head is going to think all his Christmases have come at once.
But I tell you what, now we’re talking, in terms of diet motivation – by the time I leave that salon, having spent the best part of my morning staring at my living breathing ‘before’ photo, if that hasn’t added another layer of glue to the cake shield nothing will – bring it on, I say. Asshole, do your worst – fat face? Yes but it won’t be as fat tomorrow. Chubby cheeks? Yes but not many wrinkles – you don’t get wrinkles in a balloon, BOOM BOOM!
I even have faith that my hairdresser will give me the cut that I like. And when I’m skinny, she can knock herself out and style it in the shape of whatever vegetable she likes…when you have cheekbones in place of hamster pouches even cauliflower haircuts look foxy 🙂
