The lockdown was pretty alright for a recluse like me but one of the highlights was being able to experiment with all sorts of hair colours in the comfort of my own home. If it went wrong or didn’t suit it didn’t matter because what would my husband or cat care? I went from red to blonde to bright pink to Cookie Monster blue and every shade in between – and I smugly commended my follicles for hanging in there, not falling out or bowing down to the pressure I wrought down upon them. Until, they did.
After two years of rocking an extreme rainbow, my tresses have finally said: “No more” and turned into spaghetti. It was the last bleach bath that did it and I knew, just knew I was pushing my luck. And now I’ve been to the hairdressers and had it cut short to weather the storm sensibly. No more box dye, bleach or heat – trims every six weeks – and I’m going back to my natural colour. BOO!
It’s not so bad and will be worth it when I have my dream hair but I feel ugly as hell right now. The short hair doesn’t suit me, makes me look old and frumpy – and while I’m not touching it I have to put up with it being a cocktail of old colours and tones, plus it’s thirsty as fuck. But we move as the kids say.
Why am I moaning about my hair while the world implodes around us? Because feeling good about ourselves matters and hair is such an integral part of that. I use my hair to express myself and I always have, starting with blue black in my baby goth phase. Every colour, every new cut or accessory is an expression of mood. Pink hair was “I’m feeling myself”, Blue was “Me want cookie!”, Brown was a bad idea but also said I was ready to be more conservative (which is why it didn’t last longer than a week) – on and on.
When these things go wrong or are stalled it makes life feel that little bit worse. And life is difficult at the moment, no matter how you slice it. We’re all just trying to get through it and fleeting moments of joy help no end.
That said I should be relieved my hair situation isn’t worse – some people don’t get a choice and at least my barnet gave me a polite(ish) warning to step down. My hairdresser told me a horrible story about a client who had to have a crew cut to fix her hair faux pas – so, swings and roundabouts.
I’ll just have to find another way to express my moods and creativity for a while. I’m thinking statement and new makeup.
Christa Act 