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Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Feminist Tresses and Trusses, or Why I Don't Like Fringes (or Bangs!)

It is seriously time for me to get a haircut.

It's true, there are YouTube videos on how to get my exact hairstyle that I wake up with in the morning, which makes me laugh.  But I am what I am.  A tangled, messy, messy longhaired messy haired person.

When it is time for me to finally be bothered to visit the hairdresser's, it is usually because of oh-so-subtle messages from the universe.

Like this afternoon, when I shut my hair in the car door and leaned forward to grab a CD from the CD player...

Orrrr.. the oh so subtle moment when I went to flick my hair over my jacket (Zara of course, Dahlinks!) and my fingers got caught in my hair and then I nearly scalped myself.

Or the other night, while peacefully slumbering (well, I was snoring like a herd of banshees so I assume I was peaceful.  I can't attest to anyone else's experience)...  Anyway, I was slumbering (which as a word kind of sounds like some kind of hippo, or is that just me?)...


I turned over to tuck my arm underneath my pillow and behind my head, as I always do.  Unfortunately I had grabbed a huge fistful of hair and somehow the turning motion allowed the hair to twist around my neck like a noose that got tighter as I moved my head.

I woke up pretty quickly after that one.

Sooo, it's time for me to get a haircut.  Whee.  I can hardly wait.  I'm pretty much a little kid when it comes to haircuts.  I can't be bothered.  Yes, they wash your hair for like, 2 hours and give you some weird spiritual head massage.  That part is ok, if not time consuming.  But who actually washes their hair for that long?  Nobody!  Unless they have 24 hour hot water and a very patient family.

When, and if, and that is a big if, I wash my hair it usually goes like this:

Wet hair.

Try to squeeze the prescribed 10c piece size amount into the palm of my hand.

End up squeezing enough to fit on one of those huge stone monolith coins that those ancient dudes used to roll around.

Wash the rest of the shampoo down the drain, leaving a small, 50 dollar note sized splat.

Attempt to wash hair with a quasi "squishing" motion.  Realise that I am not a hairdresser, and that the squishing is doing very little.  Rinse hair in frustration.

Condition hair.  Do you condition the ends or the top as well?  I never know.  I end up doing the ends and then saying "stuff it" and putting the rest on the top of my head.  Rinse.

Wait 1 day for hair to look normal again.  Wonder why I bothered.  Ponder life's questions that deserve far more time than hair maintenance.

But I digress.  Again.  So, once the hairdresser has washed, conditioned, detangled and super smoothed your hair, then they spend the first hour intricately cutting individual hairs from... somewhere.  I'm not sure where.  All I know is when I get up from the chair it looks like the Abominable Snowman has come in for a full body shave.

So, 3 hours or so later, my hair is trimmed about 2 inches.  I really don't understand why it takes such a long time, or where all that hair comes from.

I will relent, of course, and get my hair cut.  I have 3 requests that I tell the hairdresser every time.

1.  Just a trim
2.  Bit of layering, not too much
3.  No fringe

For my US readers, a fringe is a bang.  And a bang is a fringe.  And that girl in the "Fringe" TV show has bangs.  Glad to have cleared that up.

Every time I go to the hairdresser, they suggest something wacky.

How about a fringe?
No, I tried that once when I was 12.  As a kid I knew fringes looked stupid, at least on me.  End of story.

How about some highlights?
No, it takes another 6 hours and comes out looking no different to when I started.  Except somehow $275 is missing somewhere...

How about a short, asymmetrical bob cut?
No, I am a longhair breed.

Also, has anyone else noticed that hairdressers display a variety of posters and magazines showcasing asymmetrical bob cuts, but nobody in the real world actually has one, at least for any extended period of time?

Ha, I think I have cracked one of the great mysteries of the universe.

"There is no asymmetrical bob cut."

Think about it.

So while I'm on this seemingly focused rant, let me expand to stuff I hate:

1.  Fringes and bangs  (I'm sorry if you have one, I just don't like them.  I can't change that.  It's something in my DNA or something)

2.  "Anti-Feminists"  Yes, I'm looking at you, Lady Gaga, Katy Perry.

Unless of course, you are an idiot who likes being exploited and oppressed and doesn't want to seem too threatening to men who don't like feminists.  Tell you the truth, I don't really want to appeal to a man who doesn't like feminists, them health care-giving socialists and them gun-stealing, cow spooking scientists.

But you go ahead Katy Perry, AIM HIGH.

Let's just get a definition for those of you who don't know what a feminist is:

"Feminism is a collection of movements and ideologies aimed at defining, establishing, and defending equal political, economic, and social rights for women." (Wikipedia / Merriam-Webster Dictionary 2011)

Oooo.  Threatening.

3.  Anti-Feminists with bangs OR meat suits
Self explanatory

4.  The creepy Marc Jacobs 'Oh Lola' (Lolita) ad.  Oh lovely.  Let's celebrate creepy dudes who prey on pre-pubescent girls. Yay, us.  Yay 2013.

5.  That bottle of cognac that costs $1million dollars.  NOTHING is worth that.  You drink it, it's gone.  This isn't for drinking, people, this is for some serious poncing.  If you really want to impress somebody that much, you probably suck anyway so don't worry about it.  Buy yourself a nice house or something, or give it away to a person who is awesome.

5.  Tony Abbott
No photograph as I don't want to give anyone nightmares.

Apart from that, I love everyone and everything in the entire world.  Peace and mungbeans.


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