Tuesday, May 24, 2011

He's just not that into you(r hair).

So, who's interested in talking about my hair again? Anyone? No?

Certainly not Alex. As soon as I get that wild frustration in my eyes while clutching at my uncooperative locks or examining my 10X magnified pores in the extenda-mirror, the poor boy practically winces. A serious rant is coming on, and he's bracing for it. Eyes glaze over. Head fills with music.

I don't blame him. My hair meltdown is about 17 years running, and he's been around for a good 5 of those. 

The lovely Jenny Lee shot me in her home on a pretty Parkdale street last month and the only resulting photo that I actually liked was this one (mostly because it's an outward representation of my inward hair-mania):

Don't misunderstand me: my distaste for the photos as a whole had nothing to do with the photographic genius of Miss Jenny, and everything to do with my hyper-self-critical nature. And my hate-affair with my tresses.
So look at how RED it is. WTF? My natural colour doesn't have a stitch of red, even though my own mother is a purebred Ginger. But I guess when you mess with it for too long, anything can happen. This is the result of repeatedly box-dying it black then having it stripped and pro-dyed on top. The idea was to return to my natural shade, but it appears that this is not doable overnight. 

Now that I have a real job, though, I can spring for a pro appointment and attempt to get a little closer to that goal. I don't know why I bother, really. I'll just hate it again in 3 months. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Can I please just have hair like this? No, no I can't.

It's the colour and length I want, but my own head will not produce such gloriousness and no amount of salon-love will get me there. (That's technically my natural shade, though, I just can't seem to get back to it.)

I have an appointment on Saturday with my usual stylist at Civello. I was cheating on her for a while with Daina and Kat from The Saloon. I figured I'd throw some love back to Lynzee, since I had no reason to break up with her in the first place. Is it OK to have three stylists? Is that a no-no in the hair world?

It's just gonna be a "trim" and colour-correction (with a pathetically unattainable eventual goal of the above). If I wasn't so much of a dreamer, I'd strive for more realistic goals. But I am. I should just go for something like this:

 or this:
or this:

 or this:

OK, the sun is making me wanna go blonde again. Remember when I was?

I have to remind myself that the upkeep is a nightmare. 

So, after all of this fuss, I'll probably look pretty much the same by the end of Saturday, with subtle changes that only I'll notice. Hopefully it will mean far less complaining, though (for the sake of Alex and anyone else within earshot).

I could emerge with an edgy platimum bob. But I probably wont. I'll keep gunning for Bond-girl hair because I can't have it. Greener grass.

(photos by Jenny Lee, Miss Laing, and random internet sources... ack, I was too lazy to remember credits. If these are your pics, lemme know. I'll credit you.)

No comments:

Post a Comment