My "colourist" told me today that she loves doing my hair because I always do something different. Clearly she hasn't been at the salon too long because I'd had variations on the same style for about three decades until about last October. I was sick. I was tired and something needed a quick fix. The thing with hair is it grows. If you don't like it, time will heal. I cut my hair shorter. I dyed it brown and added purple streaks. Not bad I thought but I could do better. Next time I said "keep the purple but let's go blond". The result was more corn than blond. That, the "colourist" told me, was because there is only so much bleach your hair will take in one go unless you want to kill it. One more go and you'll get very blond. Bring. It. On. Then came the question of the streaks. I nearly went purple again but at the last minute had a change of heart. "Pink," I said. "Pink?" she asked. "Are you sure?". Sure. Rule one. If you don't like it, remember time heals all bad haircuts. But honestly I think it's me. I may think differently the first time I wash it but for the moment, I'm pretty in pink.
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