Now, I'm never comfortable going to the salon. When you have psoriasis on your scalp, you always feel like a bit of a freak... or perhaps it's just me. I feel bound to tell the stylist at the outset, so there are no surprises, and while I've never had anyone react badly, I'm still a mess. I pretend as if it's no big deal while inwardly cringing even though I know - really, I do - that it's no fault of my own. I'm just a bit of a loser in the genetic lottery.
Hmm. That may explain why I so rarely get my hair done. If I hit the salon twice a year, it's a huge deal. Also, I'm lazy and really can't be all that fussed over how I look 'cause there's not all that much I can, or will, take the time to do. My hair has to be unbearable for me to take action. And lo, unbearable it is:
Not the best picture, since you can't see the heavy grey and the line of demarcation from the last time I was bothered to have it colored. Trust me when I tell you there was a whole lot of grey. Too long as well: halfway down my back. While there was lovely curl from midway down, the top was limp and flat.
I found a new salon (the one I'd gone to since I moved here is a bit expensive, and most of the people I like have moved on), got a last minute appointment and lo! ever so much less hair:
While I might have been a bit impulsive in my choice of salon, I'm rather pleased. First and foremost, they use Aveda products and color. My skin being what it is, I've always found Aveda to be very forgiving. Secondly, my stylist was exacting in our discussion of what method of coloring would suit me best (I owned there was no way in hell I'd be in every four weeks; every four months would be a stretch). Thirdly, she cut my hair with a mind to it being curly. No blowing it out to make the cut process easier: she took the time to find the path of those curls.
It's shorter than I've had it since I was a kid, but I'm delighted. In a month's time, it'll be the perfect length. In the meanwhile, I look sort of like DI Alex Drake (Series Two), less the gorgeous cheekbones and with not quite as much Ultravox in my personal soundtrack.
Which, upon reflection, means that my haircut ought to have come with one of these:
I really ought to give the salon a call. Just to be sure.