Done it. I’ve booked myself in with a hairdresser. You know the ones, perfect hair, big smile and a bedside manner that wouldn’t be out of place in a plastic surgery recovery room.
“Oh you look divine.” The nurse tells her patient as she unwraps six layers of bandage from the patients face. Bruising everywhere and lumps and bumps all over, but that nurse keeps smiling.
How do I know? I visited a friend who had reconstruction surgery on his nose and the nurse was telling him how good it looked and how much better it would be. All I saw was two black eyes, a swollen snout and lots of dry blood.
I go to a hairdresser at least every other year. I would rather go to the dentist. That smile is always so worrying and being told, “Yes we can do something’, to come out of there with a short back and sides that wouldn’t look out of place on the field of battle I tend to be wary.
This hair dresser has been vetted and already has children, doesn’t live in a posh shop and has a sense of humour. Apparently, we’ve met, she comes highly recommended by a friend and I have her Facebook site to haunt her for the rest of her life if she lies to me.
My last hairdresser lied to me, she swore that she would not be having babies and then the hormones took hold, she married the boss’s brother and bam, babies and hairdresser gone. That was in 2012. Eight years later I’m moved twice, used two different hair ‘stylists’ and regretted it both times.
Why now, why am I being really good on my diet, buying clothes that scream, ‘desperately seeking my youth!’ and getting a redo?
On the 3rd September we go back to Slimming World. We’ve Zoomed our way through 5 months, I think I actually remember 4 meetings, I haven’t been on plan, I haven’t bothered with lock control, the curls have been wild. I have been in PJ’s and painting smock and generally sat in my front room for an hour once a week, going through the motions of listening.
Time to shake it up. We have our last Zoom and we are going to be the best-looking Slimming World group ever. On Saturday I reached for the Lippy (now I have a zit infested face!) and that is where the problems started.
Make up, check. I have loads of it. It’s good old fashioned make up, I can trace the foundation back to Debenhams in Luton. That was a good day. August 2001. So, I know the foundation has to last 24 hours, hell it’s lasted 19 years.
Hair done. I have VO5 wax. I’ve been using it since the seventies to quell the locks and curls. The hair style has changed but the need to act like a lion tamer on steroids whilst getting my hair to perform has always be a drama to watch. Mark hates it and loves the curls. I mean come on ladies, feel my pain. When has a curl ever gone the right way?
I reached for my favourite t-shirt and found my ‘Buffy’ top. And that was when it hit me. I have continued to buy the same clothes, the same hair product and worn the same make since the seventies. I cried, a lot, looked at my Graduation photo and cried again. Remembered the last time this happened, maybe a week ago and just got on with life. It took a whole day of seeing my fat sorry arse and bedraggled faded red hair to realise that I was worth more than this. I was worth taking care of.
I bought myself flowers when I went shopping, and a swede.
Interlude: I love a roast dinner and I love swede. Mark doesn’t like a roast and hates swede. I decided to have a traditional Sunday. Started with a walk through the woods with a friend. A home cooked tart that I allowed on my tracker and swede with my dinner.
I ordered a small box of chocolates. Now contrary to the misbelief that you can’t have chocolates on a diet, go check out Slimming World. And then I booked a hairdresser, ordered some bright tops, not t-shirts and looked at myself in the mirror.
I had done a Video message for a group I have on Facebook and I was surprised at how much a touch of lippy and a feeling of self, changed me. Last week I just went online, after swimming, said my piece and left it there. This week I tried to make an effort. My flowers sat on my desk and my hair was, ok, I need to become a better lion tamer.
But I’m ready now. I will Zoom on Thursday with lippy in place, (hair dresser couldn’t fit me in until the week after) but I will approach the mullet with a firm hand. But best of all, I can this week say, I’m happy. Happy with the care I am giving me.
Now let’s just hope the hairdresser does her bit.