Loud and proud

There's a time to be polite and a time to be politely forthright.

I am good at the former and very very bad at the latter unless I've been filled up with booze.

Case in point - my hair. I spent a lot of money at a very swish salon last Saturday. However I look like I attacked my locks with a knife and fork.

Its a big bushy, and far shorter than requested, mess.

But what did I do? I thanked and tipped the women who styled me on Shaggy from Scooby Do.

I blame my mother. She insists that if you have nothing nice to say you shouldn't say anything at all. She's wrong. There's no shame in jumping in and shouting - stop that's rotten  -when someone appears hellbent on giving you a Britney buzz.

And believe me I would have a lot more self respect now if I hadn't grinned gormlessly and said thanks as the hairdresser held a mirror behind my head and revealed the full extent of the horror when the cutting frenzy was finished.

I've relived the day over and over and I could have stepped in on three separate occasions and said something to save myself.

Clearly it would have been for the best if I'd said something as soon as I watched a good three inches more than the agreed length of hair being lopped off but but I was too scared of offending the hairdresser to do it. She was also holding some serious looking scissors and you don't want to upset anyone with a potential weapon.

I had a second chance to speak up when she started layering my hair even though I'd clearly asked for a shoulder length sleek bob.

By the time she started on the fringe I foolishly thought it couldn't get any worse.

After spending a lot time pulling my hair and a lot of money on hats that don't suit me I've realised the only way to deal with it is to be grown up and look on the experience as a valuable lesson.

I will learn to speak up. If my dinner is not nice I will tell the waiter (or waitress) that I didn't like it instead of saying I was full, or there was just too much to eat it all.

If a taxi driver takes me the long way round I will pull them up on it and wait for every cent of my change instead of rounding off the overly expensive fare when I get to my destination and adding to their money making scheme.

And if someone bumps into me I will accept their apology instead of insisting it was all my fault.

I can do it. I know I can.

And to make sure I do, I've taken several pictures of my shorn head, to remind me of what can happen if I don't.


Darren said...

Even after all our time embracing American culture, why can't we, Irish people, complain properly. We will accept any auld crap and smile about it.

Oh, and please, please, please post up the pictures of your hair. If only so we can laugh a bit.