goodbye, you hairy son of a bitch

Tomorrow, I shalll return from Toni and Guy with a completely different haircut. Some trainee stylist called Ryan is going to have his wicked way with me and Liz and, in theory, we'll get cheap haircuts and he'll get some much needed experience. Yeah, I see the obvious risk of letting a trainee do my hair, but I can't lose - if it looks shite one of the senior stylists will fix it (they don't want their name attached to a crap haircut) and there's no way it can actually look any worse than it does now.

The ugly truth is that I haven't had my haircut for about 18 months. Partly because I hate people touching my hair, partly because I've been aiming for long, hippy-tastic tresses that would make me look like Julia Stiles in 10 Things I Hate About You. Sadly, I've ended up looking more like Heath Ledger from the same film although without the buff body. About the same level of feminine charm though.

The hair has to go. It's cool, you'll be able to see my neck and everything. Hands up if you didn't know I had a neck.

How short though? Used to have very short hair. Used to look like a boy, but that was in the days when I was stick thin and flat chested. Hmm. My brother reckons I have a bump on the back of my head that only shows when I have short hair.

On the other hand, I've been wanting to cut it all off for ages. Ever since my first boyfriend told me to grow it long because he didn't like girls with short hair. It's kind of late to spite him now, four years after I did exactly what he told me to, but it would still give me a kick.

I shall return tomorrow, with shockingly sexy pictures of me and my new barnet. Prepare to want me even more than I'm sure you all already do.

Either that or prepare a fresh pair of underwear for when you're done laughing.