I seem to be missing at least 35% of my hair. Tres dramatic, aren’t I?
I had my first haircut on Wednesday in 18 months. It was bad – my hair, that is. It looked like a dead marsupial. The bottom eight inches, roughly, were dried out and dead, covered in split ends and just plain horrible. I looked like a Mormon Sister Wife or some sort of horrible cult member. So, Mum and I went to Sydney and I got my haircut (a friend of my mother’s owns the most awesome salon in Chatswood).
I knew that I’d have to have a lot cut off, since it was so ratty, but wow. It’s all gone. It used to fall to my butt, now it falls to my bust. It’s shiny and soft and layered around my face, but I feel so naked and light. I’m happy but kind of agitated. I’m still planning on growing it long and dip-dying it this summer.
Mum and I splurged a little in Sydney – she got a pair of orange jeans, some boots and a bottle of perfume she’s been looking for for ages. I got a lipstick (Chanel, palest pink and slightly shimmery – it’s half lipstick, half gloss and beautiful!), a Momiji doll for my collection (the white and gold angel ‘Robin’ from 2010) and three books – Someone Else’s Life by Katie Dale, Bright Young Things by Anna Godbersen and a signed copy of Coraline by Neil Gaiman (for anyone interested, they had a stack of signed copies on a shelf for fifteen dollars. I thought that was a pretty cool thing to own, especially since I’ve wanted to read Coraline for awhile now.) Tragically, I’ve read them all in two days and now I need to put in a book order because I am obsessed with reading at the moment. I’ve always loved it, but right now I’m just desperate for more and more books.
And now for a tres exotic Saturday night – pjs, the iPad and watching the Melbourne Comedy festival, then early to bed. It’s such an exciting life