So I went and got myself a fringe.
I realise now why it has been over five years since I had one, you see you need time to grow it out and time for the resentment towards it to dissipate.
AND I should have clocked to this the second I sat in my lovely Japanese hairdresser’s chair when he asked in his halting English what I wanted. I said a fringe and did a finger action like scissors across my forehead. He smiled and asked me again what I wanted, so again I repeated a fringe and did the finger action – this went on a few times until I found a picture on my phone of what I wanted and on seeing this he gave the longest ‘AHHHH’ I have ever heard, leaving me confused because surely that is what I had just been saying. Turns out I was wrong. On further discussion he explained there are different types of fringes. There is the FULL, the SHORT or the SWEEPING. This really should have got me thinking about how hopeless I am with taking care of my own hair but no I remained hopelessly ignorant drinking copious amounts of green tea and eating seaweed crackers while my hair was coloured, massaged, conditioned and cut.
So I got the fringe and left my hairdresser feeling like a rock star as I always do when someone has played with my hair.
Cue to the next day when I woke up realising that fringes require maintenance which led to the longest ‘ARGHHHH’ I have ever screeched. So now my mornings involve you know the usual brekkie, meditating, planking … and styling the friggin fringe AND don’t even get me started on the the epic fail of having a fringe at the gym… sweat and hair… you get what I mean right?