Ed: I have turned this into the Friday Night Foot-Bawl post. I was too sick and sorry for myself to post a rant about hairdressers on Friday!
I am a pretty low maintenance person in general. I don’t wear makeup (except to weddings and job interviews!), I don’t have standing appointments at beauty salons to get everything waxed, and I have had about five mani-pedis in my entire life.
This rather depressing state of personal grooming is probably borne from the fact that maintaining a paid-for beauty regimen wasn’t ingrained in me as being overly important when growing up, and because I tend to be frugal about anything to do with things that are ‘nice-to-have’ rather than ‘need-to-have’. And although some would argue that a monthly beautician appointment is a need-to-have, well, it’s not in my case, and my regimen is nothing that tweezers, scissors, a razor and a mani set won’t fix. All in the convenience of my ensuite!
However… (because there must be a However.)
However, my one indulgence is my hair. Since the age of 17, I have had short hair. Even before the age of 17, I went through about four periods of short hair (the most unsucessful one was when I was a pre-pubescent eight-years-old, and everyone thought I was a boy).
In fact, my hair has never been longer than my shoulders. It’s a hormonal thing – when it gets long (ha ha ‘long’!), I am utterly compelled to book an appointment and chop it all off and I am preoccupied by it and pissed off by it until it happens. It’s like PMS, except it’s PHCS – pre-Hair Cut Syndrome.
Now people out there who have short hair will know that the shorter your hair is, the more you notice the mistakes. And while I don’t mind some asymmetrical style in my fashion, I can’t STAND having uneven hair. Or wispy bits on my neck, or any thickness left in my hair whatsoever. And in my frugal years, I opted for a few cheap haircuts, with less than stellar results.
So, I fork out the Big Bucks to get my hair cut. And when I say Big Bucks, I am calculating the ratio of cost-per-inch-cut, and that is Big Bucks. Sometimes my hair is 2 cms shorter (but about a kilo lighter), and that will set me back about $100, with no other treatments. And that’s in Darwin! It’s the Sticks!
(And that’s OK, because as I tell Mr Moi, I am saving us SOOOooo much money by never having institued a waxy-fantaxy beauty regimen in my formative years. And I’ve saved us thousands on skin creams and makeup palettes etc. And he gets it.)
I love going to the hairdresser. The hair wash, the head massage, the mulling over the new do, and watching my new hair shape take.. er… shape. It’s especially satisfying if you get a hairdresser who actually believes you when you a) tell them you once had hair that was an inch long (and I have photographic evidence) and 2) that my hair is thick and it needs thinning shears. Yes, all two inches of it.
Yesterday, I found such a haircutter. Yesterday was a happy day.
So I am going to leave it there for now – tomorrow you can look forward to some god awful fluey photos of me with the before do, and I’ll tart myself up today to take an after snap.
And while you wait with baited breath… Does anyone love the hairdresser as much as I do?! Or is it just me…?