After eighteen solid months of growing my hair, I’d finally had enough of all of it being the same length, and veering between the two mandatory styles for a 5am riser - pulled back (my favorite, especially on mornings when my hair seems to have a mind of it’s own) or a crazed mane unable to be tamed by brush or styling products. By styling products I mean organic coconut oil, so perhaps that’s where the problem lies.
Last Monday I decided I wanted a fringe (aka bangs, which I kind of prefer, but no one here seems to know that term). Because I know any hairdresser is unable to listen to the instruction “please don’t cut the fringe above my eyebrows”, I thought I’d do it myself. Then I flashed back to the last time I cut Miss M’s hair, and thought again. Conveniently, I had to pick her up from her father’s house, and he just happens to be a fringe cutting master. Ten minutes later, he was holding a huge handful of hair, and I had funky bangs like a Fitzroy hipster, which is convenient, since that’s where I work.
The next morning reality hit. Before, my uni-length hair meant a loop of elastic was all I needed to make myself presentable. At 5.10am I looked in the mirror and noticed the fringe had decided my bathroom was zero G’s and was now pointing to the ceiling*
The stupid coconut oil was no help at all, so I resorted to soaking the hair with water and moulding it with my hand, then I ran out the door cursing my vanity. But, I’d underestimated the hair styling capacity of my bike helmet and now I like my new hair.
I’ve had about fifteen people at work not recognise me, been told I look about ten years younger, and one of Miss M’s friends said I looked too young to have an eight year old child - and is consequently my favorite friend of Miss M’s, welcome in my home at any time! I also like it because it reminds me of Sean Young’s hair in Blade Runner, and it looks like Betty Page’s bangs - although she clearly didn’t mind her eyebrows showing.
Just as a small non-haircut aside, I did my first theory assessment for the massage course last week and got a perfect score. When I told Miss M, she gave me a hug and said “Mummy, I’m so proud of you. I never expected you could do so well”. Let’s just say it took the gloss off the moment slightly.
Today I’m loving: the rowing machines at work, which I used twice last week, and am trying hard not to get obsessed with. But let’s just say next time I get on there, I’m doing better than 2910m’s in fifteen minutes.
*I used to learn Kung Fu from an Australian teacher who pronounced l’s as r’s, possibly to make him more authentically Asian. Our whole class had an ongoing competition to see who could get him to say the most l’s/r’s, and would ask “where should we point our fingers?” His answer - “to the ceiring”. When we discovered he had an Old English Sheepdog, let’s just say our questioning was merciless. Now every time I hear the word ceiling I can’t help chuckling.