I do not go to the hairdresser much, maybe I get a trim twice a year, and it has been a full 12 months since I last had my hair professionally colored.
My hair was long, and I kept finding chunks of it all over the house and in the shower drain.
It had got to the point of being too long to do anything with, and I just continued to tie it up in a boring bun.
It was time to get the chop.
I decided I wanted to give that gorgeous ombre look a go too, and thought I would treat myself to a full hair makeover.
Research was done, and I found the picture of exactly what I wanted, the length, colour, the lot. I wanted this style……
With my hair already being so dark from months of dyeing it at home, I knew that it may be hard to get this exact colour right away, but thought they may be able to get close to it.
I WAS WRONG!
After spending hours in the salon, I was in a hurry to head to my son’s kindy to help, and just hurriedly handed over the card to charge the huge amount, only to really look at my hair later and realize it looked like Ronald MacDonald had a love child with my hair! this is what it looked like:
I was upset to say the least.
People kept asking me why I do my own hair and not go to a professional. The looks were of horror when I told them that this WAS the work of a professional! Expensive work at that!
Thankfully I was able to clip it up still, and that I did when I went to the airport to pick my hubby up from his week away. I had warned him on the phone that it was not a pretty sight, and he was surprised to be greeted by something that looked ok:
Then I took out my hair when we got home……………….
“oh” he said
“I see what you mean”.
A lovely talented friend who does her own hair offered to help me correct this disaster.
I arranged a time to come to her house and felt my heart lift with joy as this hair had really got me down, I wished that I was able to rewind the clock and just never step foot in that hairdressers.
Then I stopped.
Only last week I wrote this post about starting to stand up for myself.
It was written after a nasty experience whilst having an ultrasound found me sitting in my car on the side of Cairns busiest road, head on steering wheel, just sobbing.
Although what had happened in that building and how I had been treated upset me, what upset me more was the fact that I had simply not stood up for myself.
I get trampled on,
As I say a bit, I often think life is constantly throwing things at me so I can finally learn to be more assertive.
Life is yelling at me “stand up for yourself!”
By this stage it was 4 days after my visit to the hairdressers.
I had been wearing my hair up the whole time, and noticing many strange glances in my direction.
Enough was enough.
I rang the hairdressers.
I felt my heart racing and a mild bout of anxiety coming on, though I persevered I remained polite and calm as I explained what my hair looked like and double checked that they did not expect me to pay for it to be fixed.
The lady I spoke to was lovely and made the appointment for the next day.
Today my hair got fixed.
Is it any closer to what I originally wanted?
Do I look like that funky Mamma I wanted to portray?
But you know what? I stood up for myself.
I did it without being nasty or cruel.
I did it without bursting into tears, or being yelled at in return.
I stood up for myself!
I asserted myself!
And right now, every time I look in the mirror, I see the new me,
The lady that finally decided enough was enough.
And perhaps I needed to have my hair massacred in order to do that.