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Saturday, 6 October 2007

My Inner Goddess Is A Long Way From The Surface

I have been to the hairdressers today. I love going to the hairdressers. It is a good, positive, life-affirming experience. Mainly. Last time I went, I was very badly hungover. I slumped in the chair, and when my lovely hairdresser asked me what did I want today, I mumbled at him, made vague cutting gestures all over my head, and declared that the colour I was intent on trying out was 'Brown. No, darker. Darker. Darker. Less redder. Yeah, that one'.

Not today though. No hangover for me today. Not even from cough medicine. Take it from me, when you buy cheap cough medicine that doesn't come with a measuring spoon, JUST USE A DAMN TEASPOON. Don't, whatever you do, assume that 5ml is roughly equivalent to a large mouthful, straight from the bottle. Don't then look at the instructions, and realise that you have to take 2 of the 5ml spoonfuls, so that must be 2 large mouthfuls. Whatever you do, don't repeat that dose 4 times a day. If you do, you will end up with an empty bottle, and a raging headache. I'm just saying.

I arrive at the hairdressers bang on time, to find the lovely Sean waiting for me. A very sweet girl shampoos my hair very gently, then massages conditioner into my hair. Bliss! No colour for me today. I'm still brown, and unless you part my hair with your fingers in a nit-seeking expedition, you will barely get a glimmer of grey. Sean asks me what do I want today. I proudly produce my magazine and show him the picture. I then explain that I want it cut into the neck, with a little wispy fringe, quite long still at the sides. I realise this is not much like the picture that I have shown him, but he understands. The woman in the picture has the right shade of brown though. I need to remember that for next time. He starts trimming away, oh so gently, caressing my hair with his beautiful hands. I close my eyes, and leave him to his magic. I let my mind wander, thinking about what I still have to do today, thinking about the really funny blogs I read yesterday, thinking about the road trip with
Swearing Mother, thinking about how I must tell Belle that her mum's jam is delicious and the only jam my son will eat, thinking about going away for a break, thinking about ...

'Is that OK on the fringe for you Tina?'

Beg pardon? Did someone say something? Where am I? I open my eyes, just a little, and see Sean, waiting for the confirmation on my fringe. I have fallen asleep. I AM ASLEEP IN THE HAIRDRESSERS! Have I been talking? It is not unheard of. Sometimes I chew when I'm asleep. (Don't even ask). What if I drooled? I check my face for wet patches, but it looks OK.

'That's lovely Sean, thank you'.

When he finishes, I look like a goddess. Well at least my hair looks like that of a goddess. My face, maybe less so. Unless we are getting into the realms of Gorgons. But today, I'm not very goddess-like. You see, I fell over on the way to the hairdressers. It is not the first time I've fallen over. It's not even the first time in the last 2 months. I have a problem with gravity - it pulls me to the floor harder than other people. There were no excuses. Or at least none I could think of. I'm a little scraped on the palm of my hand. My wrist is a bit sore. I'll probably have a bruise on my knee. And my left ankle is 3 times the size of the other one, and hurts like a holy swear word.

It's a good job I had my high heeled boots on, that's all I can say. If I hadn't had them on, there would have been no support for my poor ankle after I'd fallen.

Don't even say they were to blame.

Don't even think it.

9 comments:

Cailleach said...

I love going to the hairdressers, but I've never fallen asleep at them... neat trick! Congrats on finishing your degree - bet you can't wait for December ;)

belle said...

ooh Tina! I have to go to the hairdressers this week and I'm taking a tip out of your book. I'm aiming to fall asleep. I hate going, it's the mirrors that are the trouble. I'd like it if they weren't there.

How's your ankle today? Frozen peas are the anwer, don't worry about the question, just know that frozen peas are the answer.

Mid-lifer said...

I cannot share your love of hairdressers. I don't trust them.

I had a dreadful haircut when I was 15 (the hairdresser decided he knew best). It resulted in me having to wear a scarf for a month and then becoming a punk rocker (coz I could cut my ahn hayer awroit?).

All I can say is that you're lucky you didn't wake up to find a shaven head or seventies perm!

Swearing Mother said...

You really need to take more tonic with that cough medicine Tina! Will postpone the road trip until you're off the drugs, no problem.

Hope you're feeling better soon.

Hairdo sounds fab, BTW.

Tina said...

Cailleach - December can't come fast enough!

Belle - it worked for me, think peaceful thoughts. Ankle much better thank you.

Mid-lifer - I'm quite trusting with hairdressers. However bad they are, they're usually better than me. Loving the punk image though!

Swearing mother - it's made me think of all the times when I was younger, smuggling vodka in my handbag. I should have taken Benylin. Hair still fabulous, dahling! Will come back to you on the roadtrip!

Crystal Jigsaw said...

Found you via Belle. Great blog. I like the hairdressers but have to admit have never fallen asleep in the chair! Have to keep a close eye on what those scissors are doing.

See you soon,
Crystal xx

Tina said...

Crystal, lovely of you to visit! It's only now that people are mentioning it, I wonder quite how I can have been so trusting! Am going to look at the back of my hair, just in case...

Omega Mum said...

I sympathise with showing a picture of hair that bears no resemblance to what you want them to do to yours. I bet it happens so often they don't even bother looking.

Tina said...

OM, you're right, I don't think they do. Am tempted to test it next time I go. Shall take a picture of a muppet.