I got my hair cut heaps shorter yesterday. I’d let it grow all long and blah. It was making me feel all long (in the tooth) and blah.
Well, that and five hundred million other things. Fecking life as a fecking single almost-50 mum is fecking challenging sometimes. Especially if your hair is the wrong length, that really is the camel’s straw.
It’s funny how you can feel perfectly fine with your hair one minute and desperately need to change it the next. Blokes reading this are probably thinking what?
My hairdresser is the most fabulous human. I’ve been going to him for about 20 years. I sit down in his salon and I talk and talk and he listens and listens … and talks and talks too … perhaps not quite as much as me.
It’s therapy and a haircut rolled into the same session.
Mark doesn’t just tell you what he wants you to hear, although he was VERY supportive when my husband left me, despite having cut both our hair forever and a day.
He calls a spade a spade and he thought my ex had been a tool.
Yesterday, Mark called me out on a few of my rants. He also gave me lots of good advice on the various things that are bothering me. We bemoaned our equally horrifying credit card bills. We pondered the trevails of love and loss. All the big, scary stuff.
At one point he suddenly put his scissors down and disappeared for a few minutes. I sat there a bit confused, wondering where he’d gone. Then he bounded back up the stairs with a book in his hand for my eldest daughter, written by Neil Gaiman.
I was very touched. The eldest reluctantly came with me to the salon a few weeks ago to get her Cousin It hair lopped to satisfy her straighty-one-eighty school teachers.
Mark worked in heaps of salons in the inner-east until he finally opened his own, Crown Hair, a few years ago. The space he’s created with my colourist Kathy is such a welcoming place. Everyone was so lovely to my daughter during her visit. They were very impressed with an app she showed them that grows electronic plants.
I feel fortunate to have so many good, kind people in my life.
But I also felt terribly weary yesterday. I drifted through the day like I’d been zonked out on Valium. Even two strong flat whites made no impression.
It was only when I started blasting Ed Kuepper at concert-level decibels in the kitchen as I made a lamb curry for dinner that I started to brighten up. Music helps chase the cobwebs and introspection away.
I must remember that next time.
Song of the day: Ed Kuepper “Everything I’ve got belongs to you”