Let it grow, let it grow, let it grow…

Jo stands back, exasperated, brandishing the scissors dangerously close to my ear.

“No, this isn’t right at all,” she says, looking harrassed, “I just think it’s far too sensible for you. It makes you look… I don’t know…” she pauses, searching for the right word. “Sane,” she concludes sadly.

“It’s too ‘old’ for her,” agrees Jo’s next customer, who has wandered into the room and is watching the Emergency Hair Summit with great interest. I expect she thinks I’m 16, as seems to be the common misconception lately. Interestingly, looking like a woman is not actually something that will put me off The New Hair.

Jo takes a fourth run at it, diving in with hairdriers, round brushes (three of), mousse, gel, and the all-important scissors. I have not spoken in quite some time, as it appears that it’s really nothing to do with me. I am sitting obediently in the chair, and the fate of The Hair is solely in the hands of Jo and (apparently) Jo’s next customer. I have said nothing about the beehive-like monstrosity that is the top of my head. I trust Jo. She is an artist of hair.

There,” she says finally, inspecting me from all angles, cutting out a few more random chunks of hair for good measure, and spraying me with hairspray until I choke. I look dubiously at my reflection. It is a perfectly sensible haircut, but one which Jo has obsessively tweaked in a desperate attempt to make it look more “Hails”. At least there is no hairband in sight. “That’ll have to do until it grows a bit more,” she tells me, sounding only semi-satisfied. I have a sudden moment of panic, as I realise that in two weeks from now I’ll no longer be in the country and The Hair will be entirely in the hands of a foreign hairdresser. Dread fills my heart as I imagine trying to explain my image, in a foreign language, to someone who is not Jo.

Jo sighs. “You’re going to be back here within a week to get the spikes put back in, aren’t you?” she asks in the tone of one who has just wasted her entire morning. I look nervously at her, and she aims the hairdrier at me in quite an alarming way. “Don’t give in to it!!” she warns, looking slightly dangerous. Jo is very passionate about hair. “Let it grow! It’ll all be OK in the end. You have to trust me, here.”

Life is just full of major traumas and difficult decisions.

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4 thoughts on “Let it grow, let it grow, let it grow…

  1. The Sister says:

    Oh..yippee…hair situation sort of sorted…i’ll rush home from work to see it ;) Will miss the hairband!!!

  2. MO says:

    Do as I did at first – take a photo of desired hairstyle with you to the hairdresser – but even then nothing is guaranteed. ..

  3. A change is as good as a holiday…..who knows you might just end up enjoying your new do??? I always kept my hair short and when I finally grew it I discovered that it is great to have long hair!

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