When you come home with a new hair cut, which no one in the house mentions, you know they don’t like it! Still, it’s better than the time I came home and Mark said:
I thought you was going to get youre hair done?
I have. I’ve had it coloured, cut and blow dried!
Oh. I thought you just hadn’t bothered to brush it.
And a hair disaster I actually liked:
I’d just started my nursing in the early 1980’s and decided to have my shoulder length dyed red hair (with brown roots) shaved up the sides, cropped on top and the then fashionable little plait at the back dangling from the bottom of my number two. I liked it but thought it a bit boring with all my colour now gone and just mousy brown. I bought some blonde dye and asked my friend Rita to bleach the crop and come down in a triangle across the number 2 to my plait. She did this to perfection but was laughing hysterically as she was washing the colour off. So much so that she could not get the words out to tell my why. I soon found out – clearly not all the red had been cut out of my hair and I now had bright orange points at the end of the blonde. Luckily in those days we had to wear nursing hats. Phew – I could just about stuff it all under.
Oh. And some other memories:
The time my mum tried to cut my fringe which got shorter and shorter
The time I cut my brother’s hair
The time I blow dried my hair and a little bit of hair went the wrong side of the parting. I cut it to a stump ……. and now have a curl, right in the middle of my forrid.
The time I shaved Jacks hair the night before we flew to Ireland. The clippers blunted, Jack moaned and refused to have more cut. He flew to Ireland tufty, concealed under a hat and we went straight to the barbers.
The time I thought it would be a good idea for him to put his slime on his face. He said it would get stuck in his hair (aged 5). I told him it wouldn’t. He always was more sensible than me. Off with his fringe!