The Hair Challenge

There follows a really tedious, self-indulgent, self-centred, rant about my hair. Weird.

I have observed on several previous occasions that my hair is something of a disaster zone. It’s been something that I have been in denial about for all of my life: from the mop of hair I used to have in school, to the persistent number 2/3/4 and eventually 6 shaves that I used to cut in my own hair for the time between 2004 and this year. 10 years without going to a barber.

I have never been one for spending too much time on my hair, mainly because life is too short and I’m just too busy. But, frankly, the short hair cuts haven’t suited me for about 8 years. The hairline has receded – the pictures don’t lie – and, having quite a big forehead anyway, the combination is not good. I hate looking at my face for this very reason.

I took the conscious decision in summer to stop cutting my own hair and consult a barber. Maybe they could help, I thought? I had my first hair cut in many many years, and suggested they should leave the top alone. I felt like it would be wise to “rebalance” my hair. They agreed. It looked OK and got a little bit better with more growth, until, eventually, the curls once more took over and it looked stupid.

Then a couple of months later, a different barber just went mental and cut the whole thing quite short again. The whole problem of unbalanced hair returned. I was distraught. I genuinely considered what surgery might save me. Or just wearing a hat all the time.

I walk through the high street and feel left out. All around me my peers either have more hair, styled well, or have less hair, but without the ignominy of a large forehead.

It seems to me that my ultimate strategy is correct. I should have a longer fringe (there is a picture of me aged 15 with one, but I’m double that age now!) – but I’m just not sure it’s going to happen. It’s been 9 weeks since that disastrous haircut, and since then the fringe just seems to be curling and curling, while the back and sides get longer and wider.

All of this is too much for me to cope with. Unlike my general hopelessness with fashion – which I can mask by buying half decent clothes – I can’t get away with the hair. It looks crap. It depresses me when I look at my peers (and younger, alas) – and see that they don’t have such nonsense to cope with. I even see people older than me with more hair than me. I’m sure it’s not because I’m losing hair… I’m sure of it. I think I currently have more hair now than I’ve had in 10 years. It’s just growing in all the wrong directions. I crave to have straighter hair that would look good swept across, or parted, or just something. Rather than looking like, as it does now, that I’ve styled it to look crap.

It was suggested to me that the solution is to start applying “products” to it, because that’s the done thing these days. In school it wasn’t, but now it is.

So, after searching Amazon reviews, I settled on one to try. Costing £12. I’ve never spent such money on my hair. In fact, I was so embarrassed to buy anything in a store that I knew I had to buy it on the internet…

Let’s just say it does reduce the frizz, but it doesn’t give it any real direction. Now my partially curly mop of lifeless hair is a defined, matte-shiny mop of still dead hair. The curls are amplified. The directions are all over the place. But the fringe is still short. Even when I try to side sweep it, or part it, the fringe – which when stretched downwards reaches to a couple of centimetres above my eyebrows – springs back into a tight position not far from where it starts growing. It honestly looks like I have as much hair on my fringe as it did 9 weeks ago, since the bad haircut.

I don’t want to be spending 30 minutes styling my hair for it to only marginally improve. I might as well just get rid of it, like I did before.

But I cannot. It’s probably even worse when it’s really short now.

Maybe I can find a barber who can help. The search is on.

Getting Closer

This past week has made a big difference to life in the new home.

On Tuesday, after much distress, we finally got the phone line and broadband installed. That makes things so much easier. No more trips to the library, suffering terrible computers and watching the clock count down till it threw me off.

But yesterday, something just as good as that occured.

We got a shower installed. A proper shower, with real water pressure.

And it works so good. Even better than the one at my Northern home.

I’ve been desperate for the new shower to appear, largely because I’ve been having to have baths, which I hate because of the huge amount of time they take in comparison to a shower.

But something the other day made it worse. I was leaning forward to wash my hair – as you do when you don’t have any form of object to get the water from the bath up to your head – threw the water around, then opened my eyes to a rather unusual amount of red in the water.

I was, quite literally, having a bloodbath.

My nose is quite feeble even at the best of times. There’s obviously a dodgy artery up there. But leaning forward clearly provoked it and the consequences were not pretty.

At least there won’t be any more of that.

And even better, now that I’ve got a real shower, I’ve been able to cut my hair. Yes, I’m still cutting my own hair. It’s the only way to save money. Those clippers I bought five years ago have proved to be a wise investmenet. Plus, I always feel like I give myself a better haircut than the barber ever did. That’s quite something when you consider that cutting my own hair involves razors, the bathroom mirror and another handheld one.

In sum though, all of this has made me feel a lot better. My new life is still very much moving slowly into existence, with no progress on the business yet, but I have a feeling it won’t be long now. I’ve got a lot of ideas ready to deploy once my new printer arrives – which should be today.

Only one problem… I’m going back home again tomorrow. The nightmare five hour train journey awaits, with four changes. So the business is going to have to be delayed again. I was originally getting a lift home with my housemate tonight, but he’s now decided he doesn’t need to travel North. Fortunately, there were still cheap tickets available, so it’s not hurt me too much.

Anyway, life goes on. And at least I now have things to do to while away these tedious work-free days…

Lego Man Hair

Every time I cut my hair I feel like my hairline has receded just that little bit further. This happened again the other day, when I used the number four clippers this time… and though it doesn’t look as bad as it normally does at three, it is still fairly short.

But it had to go. My hair is a disaster area. When left, it becomes like a piece of a Lego man hair. It becomes one solid mass with no visible lines. And then starts to curl at the back and at the sideburns. It looks like you could “take it off and set it down”. In joke alert. Too long to describe.

So now things are a little more under control. But when I have less hair, I always feel colder. And that’s not helped by the fact that we seem to have segued seamlessly into winter from fake-summer.

This week, it’s been very quiet. I have looked at the availability of jobs, and now I have come to a new conclusion that it is not wise to apply for any more jobs in London. I’m clearly failing to attract any interest, perhaps because I’m jobless right now, but probably also because each job gets hundreds of applicants, and there’s just no way of getting noticed amongst the pile. In any case, I feel a little desperate now, applying for almost anything that might even be vaguely relevant. Surely things aren’t that bad?

And, if I did manage to get an interview, and didn’t get a job offer, I would then have forked out a large sum of money to get the train to something that was a waste of time. I don’t have that kind of money right now.

So maybe I would be better looking around here. If I instead apply for jobs based on the nine months experience I had working as a diary secretary to an MP, then surely I would have a fair chance of getting something along similar lines?

That is the backup plan now. There is still a primary plan in motion, but I’m still waiting on that one. It might never happen. If it doesn’t, then I’ll be a little upset with the friend of mine who effectively promised me the job if I ever needed it. Because, all of a sudden, I do need it. Gaps on a CV look terribly discouraging to a prospective employer…

Week by week the pressure gets more and more for me. There was me thinking that my CV looked pretty good. That I looked rather employable. Turns out not to be the case. Instead, I’m roped into the old chestnut of “to get experience, you need experience”.

Maybe the Lego man hair puts people off. But then again, having fashionably unfashionable hair is very popular these days. I ought to start cultivating it. It may become my new lucky talisman.

Hmm. Yes…