Hair today....

Last time, in diary entry 2, I had been diagnosed as a 'Winter' and demonstrated how the humble scarf can save the day, well, a jacket at least!

Now, casually, and not as part of the colour analysis session, Gail (my rather fabulous tutor at Study in Style), mentioned that the length of my hair was the wrong scale for my face. From the light browsing I’d done of the body shape, size and scale part of the course, I was aware that we should wear clothes and accessories that flatter the scale of our body. I.e. a shorter person, with a small frame, should avoid oversized bags and patterns. But I had not really appreciated that the scale rule applies to hairstyles too. Well yes, tis true. So, in layman’s terms, you could say that my hair is a size 14 on a size 8 face and is overwhelming for my small features.

Some of you will know already that I’ve been growing my hair for one hundred years and it’s now ‘long’. It’s not that wishy-washy in-between stage where you have to tilt your head right back to only just about feel it brush your shoulder blades. No, my hair is officially long.

So, what to do? The humble scarf is clearly not going to save the day here.

On a high from my colour consultation with Gail, on the 13^th November 2013 (too many 13’s in there for my liking) I would have, without any hesitation, walked out of Gail’s house and straight into a salon and gone for the chop – that’s how confident I was of Gail’s advice. Also, having had a bob many years ago, loved it and been told that it suited me, I was excited about going ‘back in time’. So I called the hairdresser that used to cut my bob (the best bob cutter in the South I’ll have you know!) and asked for an appointment as soon as possible. Soon as possible turned out to be 20^th January 2014. Jeez. That’s a long wait. But I trust her and if I’m going for the chop it needs to be a good one.

As I type with my long hair clipped out of the way, I am aware that by the time you lovely people read this, I will more than likely be sporting a bob. But I’m getting cold feet.

I had a dream last night that I was getting my hair cut to size and the hairdresser had to stop because I was about to give birth! (Note to readers, I am not pregnant nor planning on being so any time soon – though I have to admit that the thought of another baby got my ovaries clanging a good ‘un!). Anyway, the point was, I knew I could cope fine with an unexpected arrival far better than I could a shorter (half-finished) haircut. Are you a psychologist? Please stay on the line, we need to talk.

So why did I grow my hair long in the first place? Well, I wanted a ponytail. Yes I’m aware I sound 14 rather than 41 but I just love the way a ponytail swings from side to side when you walk. To me they look youthful and happy. I’m afraid my reasons don’t go any deeper than that.  

But you know, I remember vividly the day my mum asked me “How long are you growing your hair exactly?” Yes, not the most encouraging of questions is it? And to be honest, the majority of comments these days regarding my hair are “gosh your hair has got long”. Rarely, do I hear, “your hair looks great”. So, maybe I should take this as a sign that it’s time for a change.

But there is one person that really does like my long hair - and that’s my other half, Mr.B. Now, I know we should dress for ourselves and not to please other people necessarily – but we all, surely, prefer our partners to like the way we look don’t we? Will he find me less attractive, less feminine without my long hair?

These questions remind me of the time, some 13 years ago (there’s that 13 again!) that I got my ears pinned back. Long story short (ha), I got very tired of people asking me where Noddy was and telling me to wear a hat in a high wind for fear of take-off. So I went to my GP, who advised me that this operation, due to the severity of the sticky outy-ness of my wing nuts, was available on the NHS. Result!

I was put on the waiting list and after a one and a half year wait, I went under the knife. For anyone even half contemplating this operation – it’s not to be taken lightly. It was the most painful and long recovery ever, which involved having to wear a tennis headband at night for 6 months. Yes, quite an image huh? Though more Rab C. Nesbitt than Annabel Croft that’s for sure.  Anyway, to celebrate my new, post-op, streamlined head, I had my hair cut short.  Audrey Hepburn Roman Holiday short.  This was quite a shock to my then boyfriend and I knew he was never that keen on my new elfin crop – though maybe it was the ears he missed?

Anyway, on the basis that you can’t please everyone all of the time, I went for the chop! Here's my bob. I know, I know, it's a long bob (lob) but I wasn't brave enough to go for the fully-fledged shob (short bob)! It took many deep breaths and a glass of wine in the salon chair to get this far, so I think I've been fairly brave actually.

 

 

Now, I bet you're wondering if Mr.B likes my new bob? I'm not sure he does, but I do, and so I repeat, you can't please everyone all of the time!