I have the dreaded hairdressers appointment tomorrow and already my stomach is doing somersaults. The hairdressers is something I avoid for as long as possible, you see whenever I think of the hairdressers two past experiences spring to mind immediately.
The first one I was about 16 years old and I went with some mates to the hairdresser at the college we were attending. It was one of those occassions where you get a haircut for dirt cheap because you're entrusting your locks to trainees. I wasn't too concerned about this because I had short hair and only wanted a trim.
The trim went well, the trainee had done a good job but for some reason I can't quite remember she decided to tongue the top to get some curl (it was the 80's and feasible). Well the trainee girl got to chatting to the trainee next to her, and chatting and chatting and seemed not to notice that she was resting the bloody tongues on my scalp.
So I'm sitting there screaming inside as my head fizzled but not daring to open my mouth as I would have screamed and I was worried that the experience would be detrimental to the trainee, not thinking for one minute that 20 odd years later that would still be in my memory.
I still shudder at the memory of my burnt scalp peeling away a week later!
The second incident was about 10 years later. I had lovely super long dark hair and wasn't sure what cut I wanted so I said those dreaded words to the hairdresser "I'll leave it up to you". He'd chatted to me for a while beforehand so he knew that I loved my long hair and I stupidly trusted him not to have a laugh with it.
I guess I should have panicked when he swivelled me away from the mirror so I couldn't watch but I just sat there like a dumb ass and said nothing. Maybe I should have got a tad concerned when I felt the scissors as high up as my ears and heard the snip but no I sat there like a gormless idiot with a stupid panicked grin stuck on my face.
When he'd finished and turned me round and asked "what do you think" I swear to god I thought I was part of a windup show. I kid you not he'd cut my hair into a bob with the longest part only as long as my ears....................and I have a fat round face!
In shock I paid the man. Yes, I paid him for hacking my hair and then I legged it to the nearest phonebox, rang hubby in tears and refused to move from that phone box (no mobiles then) until he came and got me!
But the real reason I hate, dread, loathe going to the hairdressers?
The mirror!
I avoid mirrors at home as much as possible but at the hairdressers you can't hide from it, they force you to sit and stare at yourself for 40 minutes - bloody torture!
It has to be one of the most uncomfortable and disheartening experiences ever, sitting there calling myself fat and ugly and just when you sigh in relief (in other words stop breathing in) because she's all done they get another ruddy mirror and show you every sodding ugly angle of your head while asking "you like?"
Of course I always say yes but to be honest I'm not looking at the hair I'm looking at the side view revealing 3 chins that look even worse from the side than they do from the front!
So I have a hairdressers appointment tomorrow and I'm dreading it!
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