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Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Pinky has Another Bad Hair Day

                  Brandon, Lulu and Lily: happy-go-lucky teenagers!


Well… I had my hair cut today and must confess I’m going to LOVE it … in about twelve months when the monstrosity grows out.

(I bet Scotto’s glad he’s not here right now to suffer my relentless whinging and complaining.)

I’ve had some doozies over the years and at least this isn’t as bad as some of the hideous choices I’ve made over the last four decades.

Let’s see… there was the ‘Pageboy’ at 10 years old, the ‘Perm’ in the late seventies, the ‘Mullet’ a-la Duran Duran in the Eighties, the ‘Hospital’ cut in the nineties, the ‘Geometric Bob’ last year and now it’s the ‘Hacked-Off Fringe’ - highlighting a bulging forehead, cut.

And why do hairdressers insist on overdoing the oily products? My baby-fine, thin hair doesn’t need to be coated with Moroccan Oil and cuticle-smoothing emulsions which only served to exacerbate the stringy, flat and lifeless style I’m now sporting.

 I gave a photo to the sweet girl I entrusted my future happiness and self-esteem with to create an accurate replica hairstyle.



It didn't work. I wanted to look twenty years old like the chick in the picture but instead I look like a fifty year old bag lady who has neglected to wash her hair for six months.

Not only that, but I have a headache from those ridiculously uncomfortable wash basins. Why haven’t they invented cushioned wash basins?

I know… first world problems.

After my skulking and sulking in the hotel room for an hour or so (with frequent trips to the bathroom to check if it had grown out yet), Lulu finally returned from her lunch with friends and Precious Pinky invited herself to chill out with them for a bit. There's nothing like hanging out with happy-go-lucky teenagers to cheer you up.

Brandon, a talented Under 20s, Broncos Rugby League player, had been the girls’ formidable body guard all day and he provided me with some tough competition playing a quiz show on the telly.

Actually he beat me. Who knew rugby league players could be smart as well as fit?