….and just look at that smile. A few weeks ago I had my hair cut off a length that it hasn’t been for the past 10 years. Admittedly it was only short back in the day because my Mom would always encourage the hairdresser to take off that extra inch while I was out of earshot. Since I entered the world of non-Mum supervised chops, I progressively let my hair grow longer and longer; eventually just failing to book in appointments at all due to lack of time and laziness *gross*. Though in the past year I’ve eased myself into the chicer mop I’ve always wanted from hair that almost touched my derriere to ends that now graze my elbows. And the ombré was left on the cutting room floor. Quite literally.
Now I actually quite enjoyed my dalliance with hair colour. I’ve said before that the only dyes I’d ever attempted before I took the dip into ombré was with very temporary wash-in-wash-out shades, so it was nice to feel a little wild in the hair department for once. Having forever fallen into the normal/oily category, it was fun to test out maximum strength for coloured hair conditioners for a change, but that was an all too infrequent occurrence and before you knew it the ends had turned from an ashy gold to an orangutan orange and had to go. Seeing it all fall to the floor was a satisfying experience and I foresee that explaining my ombré to any future children will be like my Mom trying to explain the perming phenomenon of the eighties to me. Note: I’m still personally in love with the whole ombré thang, this photo of Olivia Wilde will forever re-tempt me.
Since becoming a shortie I’ve been reaping in the benefits of a lighter load on top: it now takes 15 minutes to wash and dry my hair and with the texture of my tresses being on the right side of manageable I haven’t had to do much styling at all. I’ve given it the odd curl or two with straighteners, but I look forward to finally being able to do all the ‘twisty up-dos into hairbands’ I always spot the how-to’s for. I’ll report back. The only drawback? My fallback ‘apple bun’ can no longer be held and attempts have led to me sporting a half-up, half-down aerobic instructor look. Time to re-find the hundreds of bobby pins I’ve lost in the flat.
You may notice that I’ve left the front part of my locks intact, wimping out of fashioning it into a fringe at the last minute. Who knows? Maybe next time.