Colours! I’ve re-dyed my hair and I’ve now got pretty much everything but yellow.
I was ill last week with a horrible bug. I’ll not go into details but it wasn’t pleasant. And whenever I’m ill something horrendous happens to my face and my hair. All nutrients and good stuff that get whizzed around by the little red and white blood cells get re-deployed to fight whatever is battering me. I picture it like this:
If you want to understand how it works, then this instructional video will definitely help. Despite watching days, weeks, probably months of House, ER, Grey’s Anatomy and all that jazz, this is still how I picture the inside of my body. I love those red blood cells. I’m far too susceptible to TV programmes.
Anyway, by Saturday I was almost feeling normal and the only way I could make myself fell almost human again was to get my hair cut. I’ve been growing it since last January, only having a small trim and getting my fringe cut in, so that’s what I planned to have done again. Or get it cut really short, one or the other.
It started reasonably well, with the bleach going on to boost my red and blue streaks, the brown going on to sort out all the grey roots. I chatted to the lady, she seemed quite busy. I said that I was going to try and keep it long and to get some long layers in.
Ok, so I should admit that I’ve just googled myself. It’s not big, it’s not clever, it’s not something I’m proud of but I’d just seen a facebook post from my cousin Iona who had cut her own fringe and it reminded me of something I’d once written about cutting my own hair with kitchen scissors.
I can remember doing it, sat in my bedroom, 39 Curtis Road, Newcastle, with its rag rolled golden walls with one brown striped wallpapered room before one wall of wallpaper was cool. I’d propped the mirror up on my desk and started cutting in some layers and hoping for the best. I did a similar thing about 2 weeks ago – my graduated bob grew out about 3 months ago and the African sun combined with bleach and repeated coverings of red hair dye had left the ends frazzled. I had wanted a professional hairdresser to fix it but couldn’t get hold of her so one Saturday afternoon, whilst avoiding doing some actual work I switched on the bathroom light, took the kitchen scissors in my hand and started to hack away. The result wasn’t that bad.