| Communing with Kate Bush |
| Wednesday, July 13, 2005 |
My hair has broken out into song today; but it's not a song of joy, it's a cry of follicle frizziness.
It goes a bit like:
Babooshka, Babooshka, Babooshka-ya-ya!
I think Kate Bush was having a bad-hair day akin to my own when she wrote that song. (okay I know the song isn't strictly about bushy hair ...)
Anyhoo, in honor of the day, I'm going to reminisce on bad Twyford hair events.
1. When I asked for a bob with an undercut (It was a really cool haircut at the time, believe me!) the hairdresser cut the bob high above my ears then shaved the rest of my head bald. It really just served me right since I got my hair cut at a cut-price hairdressers near a supermarket that was filled with hay-bales and cowboy-hat-wearing cutters.
2. Once at work a fellow employee asked me if I had been swimming. Really I had made a bad decision not to wash my hair that day so it had a nice greasy wet look. What do you say to that?
3. A particularly bad bridesmaid outing - Quite apart from the highly pink, pearled, frilly dress, which was bad enough, the hairdresser made a concerted effort to boof-up my hair. All the vicious back-combing made me look like a poodle. I was sixteen. I cried a lot. I looked puffy-faced and miserable in the photos.Labels: hair |
| posted by Cleo Twyford @ 11:33 AM |
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