Sorry, I Can’t Write Anything Interesting Or Entertaining – It’s A Bad Hair Day
I’m in a funny mood. I can’t seem to do anything right. Even writing a decent sentence is beyond me. I get days like that. I’m sure we all do, for different reasons. In my case it might have something to do with the fact that I recently had a ‘bad haircut‘.
Maybe it’s me, but a bad haircut affects the way I feel and the things I do, even writing. I’m not at my best. I can’t take myself seriously. I feel bad about myself. Really bad.
I catch sight of myself in the mirror every half hour or so and I cringe. Is that really me? Is that really my hair? Is that who I am? Is that what I have become? Oh dear.
Worse still, the bad haircut has a nasty habit of turning into an even worse ‘bad hairstyle‘ as it grows out of control into a monstrous thing…….The Mutant Hairstyle from Hell. That’s where we’re at right now.
So, I need to find a new hairdresser. And that in itself is depressing. In general it take at least sixteen to twenty cuts for the stylist (I use the term loosely) to figure out what I want. I say things like ‘Not too much off the fringe, just tidy it up please’. Then when they fiddle and faff with it for half an hour I usually add ‘Could you be a sweetie and just trim it a touch over the left eyebrow? Not too much, just a gentle waft of the scissors should do it.‘
I am their worst customer. My hairstyle (I use the term loosely) has more or less remained the same since 1971. Not good. I need to emerge from the 70’s and at least drag the hair into the 90’s. But it’s such an effort. And I wouldn’t like the result. I’m comfortable having 1974 hair.
Why does hair have to grow anyway? Why can’t it stay just the way it is? It doesn’t make any sense.
Maybe I should have them shave it all off. A Full Yul Brynner. But would the young girl in the hairdressers know who Yul Brynner was? I would guess not. She doesn’t look the type to have watched The Magnificent Seven or The King and I on TV on a Sunday afternoon.
Maybe if I asked for a Bruce Willis? Or is that yoof slang for something unmentionable? I wouldn’t have a clue.
Until then I suppose I must soldier on…..now, where’s my woolly hat?