When I was at school I had long [permed] hair permanently scraped back into a french plait. I also had a fringe. Not a good idea when you have a slight tendency toward curls, and you live in constant humidity. It was particularly bad the day my Mum took it upon herself to trim my fringe – she wet it – pulled it down trimmed it – obviously it dried centimetres higher and then sprung into curls on at each end. Buffalo Barton. Obviously it was school photo day, my bad hair day immortalised forever. This weekend I went to visit my friend and she commented how “cute” my hair looked all flicking out at the ends. CUTE?!? It’s not cute – it’s perilously close to reverting back to the traumatic days of my youth. The hairdresser has received an emergency call.
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