Friday, 20 January 2017

Fire and water...

Since I have tamed my curls into some level of obedience, I seem to have spent a disproportionate amount of time in the hairdresser's, parting with sizeable amounts of money to keep me on the straight  and (not so) narrow.  I came to the conclusion last week that I frequent the salon far too often, and I think it's because of two reasons.

1. I'm afraid that I will damage my hair with the lava-heated straighteners which the sales lady in Boots told me were the best ones. 

Yes, I can imagine they would be the best ones for that price, but you have to bear in mind that they have other uses, such as tattooing a third degree burn on your forehead just below the hairline and melting the bedroom carpet, making a furniture move necessary.  These straighteners also defy all common sense as they have a water tank attached.  Now forgive me if I remember this incorrectly, but mixing water and electricity is not meant to be very clever, is it?  I know that science and technology have moved on since rickets and a flat planet, but even so, I was very wary.  The other concern is that if you have curly hair which is to be ironed flat, then water is not your friend.  Ever.  I threw the tank away on day one, and over the next week managed to damage a small section of my hair so badly with over use of the volcanic straighteners that in the right light, it looks like that orange loft insulation.

So yes, I'm frightened of inflicting more damage...

2. I can't do it as well as the hair stylist can. 

Again, this is true.  It takes me the same amount of time, using the same brush and hair products and a similar technique (I watch very carefully when she does it).  When I do it, there is no banal chatting about nights out or future holidays, so no distractions.  I am totally focussed on the job in hand.  So why does the stylist's blow dry last a week, whereas my effort struggles to behave for more than three hours (or till I go to bed, whichever is sooner).

So yesterday, I was in town, predominately to get my car washed as it had reached new levels of filth over the last month.  Leaving my beloved car and keys with four total strangers with a bucket, I wandered up through the shops, finally coming to a halt outside The Cutting Bar.  'No Appointments Necessary' read the sign in the window, which was surrounded by well known hair products.  So I wandered in. 

'Can you do me a wash and blow dry please?' I asked the girl on the till. 

'Of course, follow me down'.

Twenty five minutes later I was out with a perfectly good blow dry with some serious change from a £20 note.  I have come to the conclusion that over the last eight months, I have been paying around £18 extra for a massage chair at the wash basin, a cup of tea and a lot of waffle.

You live and learn ladies...

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