I’m not a massively girly girly-girl. Sure I love shoes, and clothes, and getting all dressed up. But somewhere along the way I seem to have missed out on vital lessons I ought to have had in my teenage years. I only know one way to wear make-up, which is why I don’t wear it at all in general day to day, so I can make myself look very different when I do get dolled up.
My main source of girly frustration though, is my hair. When was I meant to have learned how to style my hair?
I have very thick hair, which grows fairly quickly. It has a natural wave, so theoretically will take to being both curled and straightened. All of this is supposed to be good. Naturally, it’s a sort of mousey brown colour, so as soon as I was allowed, I’ve been dying it, which means I haven’t been my natural colour for more than a few months for at least 13 years.
As a youngster, I sported long hair with a fringe (whoever thought fringes were a good idea? I look awful with a fringe! Not to mention the havoc it plays with the skin on your forehead when you hit puberty). My hairstyle didn’t change for years, except for a short period around the age of seven, where my mother finally came through on her threats of “if you don’t stop chewing on your hair, I’ll cut it all off”, and had all my hair cut off.
|I'm the one on the right.|
I eventually ditched the fringe, but didn’t actually have a hair style, as such. It yo-yoed between chin- and shoulder-length, until I eventually had it styled properly into a layered bob, with my first ever dye job of dark mahogany-red lowlights.
|Not the best photo, but the only one I could find!|
I suddenly realised that a decent hair cut went a long way towards being able to style my hair how I wanted, instead of it just doing its own thing. My love affair with hair dye also began.
|From Top Left (aged 17) to bottom right (about five months ago)|
It’s currently the longest it’s ever been, and starting to do my head in a bit. I am getting about six inches chopped off tomorrow afternoon, after my exam.