I have thought before, and thought again today though not to quite the same extent, that it is truly a depression inducing experience. To have to sit for an hour or so staring at your face in the mirror at a close proximity is hard to take. However you may have felt going in to the hairdressers, it is far too easy to slump into a pit of woe. Or at least for me. The first time when i realised it just wasn't kind to have to stay in this situation surrounded by people and images that say your looks are what's important, was in Southampton last year at the uni hairdressers. Don't get me wrong, I have subsequently managed not to spiral, but I would say it's a close call. I can go through so many emotions as I try to fight it off. There's generally a stage where I hate the fact that I have a really small head, hopefully followed by a stage where I try to convince myself that I don't have a small head, and then it's the saggy cheeks or the sallow complexion or the ... or ....
But sometimes I come away liking the look. Here are a few picks from recent haircuts.
May 2009
September 2008Another thing I thought about during the session in relation to the blog (I admit, I was mentally planning a blog entry while I was there - I don't really like to admit that to myself, it reminds me of Mr Collins saying he prepared his 'sucking up' speeches in advance in Pride and Prejudice - am sure Miss Harvey used a better word than 'sucking up' when she was teaching us at GSCE!) was the virtual versus the hand held diary. As snippets of my hair were falling onto the cloak thing you wear (proper name??) I was remembering how mum had the clippings from my haircuts in my baby book. I was looking how dark my hair was compared to when I was younger and thinking about keeping some from then to look at in years to come. I thought that it would be the sort of thing I could tape into a hand held diary, but the blogging world lets me down... I left the hair to be swept up.
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