As predicted, I arrived home to Bristol and my Mum was full of ideas about me getting my haircut. Well, the idea went like this "why don't I see if I can book you in for a re-style on thursday?" and all of the vague haircut orientated thoughts I'd had recently forced me to accept. only now, the night before I'm filled with a sense of dread imagining those scissors. What is it about haircuts, eh? I like to think that I'm a pretty rational person and don't get silly about something as trivial as a haircut but well, they can just be a little upsetting can't they? Of course I can equally swing the other way and often end up thinking after the deed has been done 'That wasn't bad. That wasn't bad at all. In fact I love it so much I'll spend the rest of the day looking at my reflection.' Only the fact that I haven't had anyone else touch my hair for over a year (I've been cutting it and dying it myself in some kind of tiny act of rebellion) means that the thought of handing all responsibility over to someone else makes me twitch a little. And this twitching is also because I'm having a restyle, namely a fringe put in and though I think it's time to try something new, the last time I had a fringe I spent the entire time trying to guard it from being ravaged by the wind and rain.
Does anybody else find themselves overcome by the urge to crawl underneath the bed and never come out the night before an appointment at the hairdressers? Oh how silly we are. Doesn't help that hair naturally seems to look at it's nicest and most tame when a trip to the old snippers is just around the corner, too.
I know, I know it's very idealistic to walk into a hairdressers holding a picture of a model and asking 'make me look like her?' but this is the idea I'm going for..