Disclaimer – I actually wrote this post before I had done the dirty deed.
I feel wracked with guilt. I don’t know what to do, well I do, but I can’t stop myself.
I’m about to embark on an illicit affair: I’m going to a new hairdresser.
Yes, I’m breaking up with my hairdresser. It’s not her, it’s me. I’m feeling all of those clichés. I feel like we have got into a rut. I need a change, I need excitement back in my hair. I will miss the biscuits, the gossip and the coffee but sometimes a change is good.
I have been with my hairdresser for about 2 1/2 years now. When it comes to me and hairdressers that is a long-term relationship. She saved my hair when I was walking around looking like Pob. I was all fringe: it was not a good look. She declared that my hair had been butchered and over time she managed to sort my hair out.
I trusted her. Sometimes I had to bite my tongue. She wasn’t that diplomatic – telling me that when I walked past her salon she despaired because I hadn’t taken the time to dry my hair properly. It wasn’t that I hadn’t taken the time, I didn’t have the time! I also didn’t always agree with some of her views but no relationship is perfect. Look at me and Mr C. Difference of opinions is good.
We Got Comfortable
Then the inventible happened. We got comfortable. I found myself sitting in the chair and letting her do the same cut, same dye, again and again. Perhaps I should have tried to salvage our relationship. Thrown in a demand for a perm, asked that we go purple, or suggested that I get a pixie crop. But I didn’t, I sat there and listened and switched off because it was comfortable.
Time To Move On?
I now feel like I have outgrown my hair and my hairdresser. My roots are so bad that someone thought I was modelling two-tone hair out of choice. This ain’t ombre: this is crisis hair. I just didn’t know what to do with my barnet. I didn’t feel like I could go and see another hairdresser on the island, that’s just too close to home and what if she found out? What if she came into the salon and made a scene, brandishing scissors and bleach. What if it went Fatal Attraction? See, I’m letting my imagination run wild here but rest assured that my hairdresser is not someone you upset. At the end of the day this isn’t my hairdresser’s fault, it’s me. But what do I do? The awkward thing is that the hairdresser’s is literally next door, so now I’ve taken to walking the long way round to avoid making eye-contact, to avoid feeling like I’m cheating! To avoid the awkwardness.
It’s not crazy that I am feeling like this though. If you think about it, we all get very close to our hairdressers. They touch our hair and they listen to our secrets. Who else in our lives does that? Just our loved ones. It’s a weirdly intimate relationship and I do feel like I’m breaking up with her. On the other hand, my hairdresser is probably none the wiser to any of this. She might have wondered why she saw me trying to stealth crawl past her salon the other day but apart from that none the wiser.
Time For Another Fling
We had good times but now is the time for another fling and oh, what a crazy fling it will be. I am flying back to the mainland for a makeover. My mother has told me that her hairdresser is a genius, I am expecting Edward Scissorhands. She has assured me that he will sort me out. My mother has also told her hairdresser that I am having a midlife crisis and he needs to sort me out. Thanks for that, Mum.
An Intense Affair
This won’t be a long-term relationship with the new hairdresser. It will be a short term fling, I’m guessing that it will be a fairly intense affair. I won’t have time to get to know his faults so I will probably fall headily in love with him and look back fondly on the one time he cut my hair. I have high hopes that I will come back to Jersey a new woman and my mum’s hairdresser will probably be relieved that I live on Jersey and not in Essex. He won’t have to take out that restraining order. He will give me my spark back and hopefully help me fall back in love with the old two-tone barnet. I am determined that this will not become a long-term affair. I am not one for long-distance relationships. Mr C and I had to live apart for a while and I wasn’t a fan. Mr C probably was, but I wasn’t (hmmm). Therefore, I shall enjoy this short fling but I will keep my distance. I will not share my secrets, I will maintain an air of mystery. I will keep my distance and hide behind Vogue magazine. I will remain dignified. Wish me luck.