Earlier this year, I decided to shave all my hair off for a fundraising event the Leukaemia Foundation holds. I’d seen an ad on television, and being highly suggestible, knew it was something I had to do. My relationship had recently come to an end, and as everyone knows, a haircut follows a breakup like A follows B. The fundraising also benefits people with Lymphoma, a disease I’d had when I was 24, so it was like a huge neon sign was flashing “do it!”.

Most of my female friends were horrified, and some even offered to sponsor me not to shave my hair off. Most of my male friends loved the idea, and offered me more money to go totally cueball. I had to turn them down, since I didn’t want all my clients running away from my shiny bald head, although it did hold a certain military appeal for a moment or two. I imagined myself running boot camp classes and shouting “I said get DOWN, maggot”, but knew I wouldn’t be able to control my laughter.

On May 2nd, the women in my neighbourhood house exercise class helped me do the deed. My pigtails were hacked off, then after a bit more chopping, my hair was shaved to a No 1, which for those of you who don’t know, is just an 8th of an inch away from totally bald. The Divine Miss M cried, and told me it was hideous, but she’s seven and firmly entrenched in the belief that girls have long hair. I liked it a lot more than I thought I would, and for three months, I kept it at a No 2, which is just a little further away from totally bald.

After a trip to New Zealand for a yoga teaching course, I decided I’d had enough of my shaved head. Possibly something to do with the temperature being minus 2 and not being able to get warm, but I was getting sick of shaving it twice a week to keep it the right length. I suddenly also (to my own great surprise) decided I wanted to look like a girl again, and as my daughter says, girls have long(er) hair.

So after growing it for about two months, I now have a crazy Eurofro, which made it’s first appearance a couple of weeks ago. I was hoping for pixie elegance a la Kylie Minogue, but instead, my hair sticks straight up, regardless of beanies or bike helmets. Everyone at work is fascinated by it, and it’s always being touched, patted or commented on. So as well as raising money for a great cause, I’ve got this incredible hair which would never have appeared if I hadn’t cut it all off. I’ve decided to let it progress organically and make a firm decision on what to do later. Yesterday someone asked if I could grow it like Marge Simpson, and with a little more time and a few buckets of product, the answer is probably yes.

Today I’m loving: the eight people who came to my lunchtime yoga class!