Sunday, May 16
I have just returned home from the worst hairdressing experience ever. The one even trumps the occasion where a hairdresser friend of mine dyed my thick fringe bright pink by accident the day prior to a job interview.
I really should have been tipped off by the fact that I overheard her talking to another client singing the praises of TV meals and the fact that you don't have to wash up afterwards - 'I don't understand why people cook for REAL'. Then when she carried on with the health benefits of chiko roll consumption 'they have cabbage in them and other stuff'. Yeah, that stuff would be MSG and other unmentionable CRAP.
The real giveaway should have been her hair -was all sorts of bright purple, black and orange shades that were in no particular style - just patch-like.
My tweets went like this:
12.11pm overhearing hairdresser sing praises of frozen tv dinners. 'I don't understand why ppl cook FOR REAL'
12.14pm oh it gets better: 'chiko rollls are healthy aren't they? got cabbage in them!'
1.43pm: seems my hairdresser knows as much about hairdresssing as she knows about food. ANGRY
1.57pm: eating lindt straight from supermarket trolley #emotionaleater #upsetbydodgyhairdresser
2.30pm: a phone call to salon owner and consumer affairs tomorrow. Can't afford to get it fixed, don't want them to touch it #nowinsituation
2.32pm: *sob* just saw the back for the first time. #primadonnatantrum
So my hair looks something like a cross of Carol Brady with short Cameron Diaz do and with brown hair that had orange fanta sprout out of it. That will learn me to cheat on my hairdresser. I just didn't have time until today, and she doesn't work on Sundays.
There are always hats I suppose, I can wear hats this winter, can't I?
Print this post in friendly format