Hairdressing
"What are you going to do about your hair?"
That's been a popular refrain from Mister E of late. Seriously, I don't think it's too bad, after all I had it cut quite short not long before all hairdressers were ordered to shut shop and it never looks great at the best of times. Also, I made a useful decision in retirement to let it grow into its now natural colour, a mix of grey and white, so there are no roots to worry about.
I have had a hankering for some time to dye it a soft pastel shade. However, there is no hair dye in the house and it hardly counts as essential shopping so, despite the fact that an enforced period of staying at home would of course be a wonderful time to experiment, I guess it is not going to happen.
I did find myself chatting over the wall to a neighbour who confessed that her husband had "done her roots" for her. Desperate times! Mister E is very handy and an excellent cook, but I'm not sure that I want to be a guinea pig for his untested hairdressing skills.
In any event, I gave my hair a good wash, applied some of that sticky volumising gel, blew dry it and you know what, it looked perfectly fine to my eye, especially as I'd already attacked the unruly Elvis sideburns with nail scissors a couple of days beforehand. Perfectly respectable and just as well as I was off out to collect prescriptions shortly afterwards.
Just as I was leaving the house, I received a call. Guess who? Yes, none other than my hairdresser, wanting to keep in touch and assuring me that I would have a priority booking when she returns to work. Bless her and we had a lovely chat but, almost as bad as Mister E, what is it about my hair that makes people think I care?
Be that as it may, it does do you good to glamorise yourself from time to time. Take last night, hair still intact (the glue-like gel is magical), I decided to join my brother in dressing up. Not literally, he was at his home but has started to wear the full works on a Thursday night: dinner suit, cumerbund, dress shirt, bow tie. He does it to go out to clap for the NHS and carers whilst my sister in law is coming to the end of a gruelling shift on the frontline at one of our local hospitals. So I bathed and then donned my own evening dress, pearls, stilettos followed by a spray of eau de parfum and some bright red vampish lipstick.
We can't actually see anybody else from our front door, but I joined in the clapping regardless, sent the video to my sister in law and felt like I'd had my first night out for a long time.
Comments
I just went for it and have been hacking bits off as and when they annoy me, (frequently) top and sides is ok, but haven’t figured how to do the back so I’m developing a bit of a mullet. I figured once I’m out an extra short hair cut will mitigate the worst of it.
Cheers
Binge (aka chopper)