I’m not suffering from a mid life crises. At least, not yet. I don’t think.
I just want a holiday – and apparently a change is as good as a holiday.
So instead I cut off all my hair. (Don’t freak out – I’ve done this before!)
When I made the appointment for the hairdresser, I didn’t know I was going to cut off all my hair. I’ve been saying I’m going short for years – I even have a Pinterest board dedicated to short to mid length cuts that I’ve dreamt about having the guts to do for some time. But last week’s wind, rain and general catching of my hair on my handbag handle was the final straw. I was done.
At dinner just a week ago with Jenna and Jacqui. A rare sighting of my hair down!!
I couldn’t be bothered with it anymore. And in searching for a ‘before’ shot of me with my hair out, I realised all I ever did was put it back in a ponytail or a high messy bun. My love affair with long hair was only convenient when I needed a formal do – the time had come.
On Saturday I headed to the BIBA training academy to meet my hairdresser Tom, a long time friend who I went to Uni with (and who introduced me to my partner so I am forever indebted to). Tom has been cutting my hair for a few years now, and as a friend (rather than just a hairdresser), I know he’d never let me do anything to my hair that wasn’t going to look half decent. I showed him the pre approved by the boyfriend inspiration picture, and with a little encouragement from his colleague Dave, the scissors came out.
Hair inspiration – so frenchy, so chic!
The first chop at shoulder length was just to make the process of dying easier, and I already felt lighter. Actually come to think of it, I didn’t mind the bluntly cut shoulder length bob, but what was done was done. Blonde hair lined the floor around my chair. Dye applied, a few chapters of my book and a wash before it was go time.
Um…. perhaps I should have thought this through…
Tom started cutting. And cutting. And cutting. And then there was a razor. I promised myself not to jump to conclusions before he was done – although potentially the look of nervousness in my eyes gave me away regardless. This was SHORT. I panicked just a little bit. I just need make up. And a different top. It will all be okay, I thought. It’s just hair. It will grow back!
The After shot. Not all bad!
And so I rode the tram home, texting my friend the whole way with cries of ‘what was I thinking?’
By the time I got home and started playing, the look was growing on me. A few coats of mascara and a winged eye, a pin here and there, and all of a sudden, it was kinda cute. And I liked it.
Two days later, there is still some adjusting to be done, but I’m pretty happy. I can’t exactly roll out of bed and throw it up in a topknot (short hair takes WORK people!!) and I have several hair donuts that are now defunct, but the people are right. A change is as good as a holiday.
