Its that time again. Time to get the roots redone as I'm starting to look like a tramp who accidentally fell into a vat of peroxide.
Headed to the local mall to remedy the problem. Not very exciting.
Until there was a commotion outside and someone smashed through the glass of the ATM as if assuming that he could just walk off with the cash inside.
We had all just finished giggling about that when a woman walked in. Having sat down she demanded that she wanted her previously dark hair to go the same colour as mine. Creepily white platinum blonde. And yes she kept pointing at me while she said it but then glaring when I looked up to work out why she was basically grabbing my hair. Meh, women.
The hairdresser tried her best. In her defence she did say that with her over-dyed, over-straightened hair it was a very very bad idea, while trying not to offend the woman to her face. But when the woman called her boyfriend in to help insist it was what she wanted, it left the salon with no choice.
Cue twenty minutes later she is screaming about how much her head hurts from the bleach and insisting it gets rinsed off. The look on the poor stylists face when clumps of hair start to come out in the basin was priceless.
I escaped just as they started to explain what had happened to the customer. Not a job I envied them.
I wasnt complaining, it certainly livened up an otherwise dull hour and cut short the elderly female explaining how her botox injections had 'slipped' resulting in her lopsided appearance to the poor middle aged stranger sitting next to her.
Headed to the local mall to remedy the problem. Not very exciting.
Until there was a commotion outside and someone smashed through the glass of the ATM as if assuming that he could just walk off with the cash inside.
We had all just finished giggling about that when a woman walked in. Having sat down she demanded that she wanted her previously dark hair to go the same colour as mine. Creepily white platinum blonde. And yes she kept pointing at me while she said it but then glaring when I looked up to work out why she was basically grabbing my hair. Meh, women.
The hairdresser tried her best. In her defence she did say that with her over-dyed, over-straightened hair it was a very very bad idea, while trying not to offend the woman to her face. But when the woman called her boyfriend in to help insist it was what she wanted, it left the salon with no choice.
Cue twenty minutes later she is screaming about how much her head hurts from the bleach and insisting it gets rinsed off. The look on the poor stylists face when clumps of hair start to come out in the basin was priceless.
I escaped just as they started to explain what had happened to the customer. Not a job I envied them.
I wasnt complaining, it certainly livened up an otherwise dull hour and cut short the elderly female explaining how her botox injections had 'slipped' resulting in her lopsided appearance to the poor middle aged stranger sitting next to her.
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