Thursday, March 11, 2010
Sing it with me chingy styles 'I like ya heer, like ya heer'
When I was at uni I was hella cut that I wasn't part of the drama department, so I did all the electives in that area that I could. First year, I had this dramaturgy teacher who raved on endlessly and went off on so many tangents that most of his lectures ended up sounding like gobbldygook to me. As a little experiment, I wrote down everything he said in one morning. Except when he used the words art or drama I exchanged them for hair. After class I read back on the lesson and turned it into a little play. At the time I thought this was a good metaphor for wank in the arts department, but looking back I actually realise that this was quite apt for my relationship with me and my hair. It's something of an obsession.
I've dyed and cut so many times that I can't quite recall the natural state of it. I think it would be an ugly mousey brown. Woof, how unnoticeably girl next door. As soon as it's looking nice and normal I feel an itch to do something completely drastic and ruin all the hard months of the growing-out period I've had to endure. Blondes definitely have more fun, but the runner line they forgot to mention with that one is 'blondes have more bills' from the toner to the blonde shampoo to the monthly hair appointments (which I never make so end up looking like a skunk on parade) I'm always out of pocket due to my stupid hair. At least when I'm eating out of a can on my couch on a Friday night, my hair is looking fab.
When I moved out of home I found my writing theory notebooks which were filled with not notes to on writing theory but notes to my friend, a fellow hair obsessor, on my hair and questions about what I should do with it.
No wonder I came out of that degree wondering what the hell I was supposed to have learnt.
Let's speed up to present day. I'm bored. With my hair. It's lovely. It's gotten to a nice shoulder length, and is a natural caramel and beige blonde. I have a great relationship with my hair dresser, so I don't feel like I need to act out, but something is missing. That 'wow' factor.
I don't like this feeling. It's the calm before the storm of my usually bad impulse haircut. Once time I wanted a 1920s bob and came out looking like an old Italian momma. Someone please save me the heartache and tell me that safe is good, natural is best and consistency is key. Cos right now I'm thinking of a dramatic asymmetrical cut with fairy floss highlights. I'd also love a bowl cut, but I'm no yeah yeah yeah. Must remind myself that just because I imitate someone's haircut, that does not mean I suddenly resemble that person or their lifestyle