|Me aged 2 with curly hair|
|Me aged 4 with bowl hair and bow. In the front. In blue,.Carrying some yellow thing.|
When I went to university, I went and had it layered for the first time. That was fairly OK. It was one of those salons where you have to strip off to your underwear and don a cloak. I will never forget the shock. And so I had layered hair for Year 1. But that made tying it up for badminton matches a little difficult, so I had it cut short. That looked dreadful, so I grew it again, and by 3rd year, it was coming along nicely, and I was doing a lot of babysitting for the most well known up market hairdresser in town. Pierre. I remember him and his family very well. Whenever I went babysitting, if my hair did not look great, I tied a scarf over it. He knew I was hiding disasters.
So one day he told me to pop in to the salon and he would do my hair for me. Right. So off I went. He was German, and full of grand ideas, so he TOLD me that he was going to henna my hair to "give it some life".
You have no idea.
It turned luminous orange. It made my eyes hurt and that was in the dim lighting of the salon. By the time I got out into the African sun, I was a beacon which most definitely turned every head in town. They were all thinking - WHAT POSSESSED HER??????
I drove back to residence, and the lady on duty did a double take and suggested I buy some hats. And henna takes ages to come out. I spent a good 6 months with my head wrapped in a series of scarves.
So I never tried touching colour again.
On the morning of my wedding, I had my hair done (by Pierre) at 6am, and when I got home, my Mum hated it. Pierre said that the weight of the veil would drag it down, so he did it that particular way. It was fine. It just didn't look like me. But we survived the uproar of me having a meltdown, Mum upset, and my sister throwing her glasses across the room and breaking them.
Life is so tranquil around me.
And so, moving on many years of the long and the short and the very long hair saga, still red, I went to have it done in Cape Town while there on family business. And I mentioned to the hairdresser a friend recommended, that I would love highlights, but that I knew you couldn't have them on red hair. She raised her eyebrows and said "Sweetie, I hate to be the one to break it to you,. but your hair is mousy, not red." What? No red? Well, it is sort of golden now, not so much red, but oh, the joy, because that was the first day I had highlights. And they worked!!!
And it was also the advent of my love affair with squishers. Hair straighteners. My hair is wild if not straightened, and over the years, it has been whirled - you twist it flat around your head when wet and stick a pair of tights over it all, then twist it the other way and it straightens. Or ironed. Lean over and put your hair on the ironing board and get a friend to iron it flat. That works too. We were nothing if not inventive in the quest for straight hair.
So I bough hair straighteners from the hairdresser because they really work well. And here we are today.
When I was younger, I used to dream of having hair which just curled under and swung out and back into place instead of being wavy and wild. And now, I get to choose which way it will be.
|Me a year ago. I think.|