So I did it, I got my hair cut. And I didn’t chicken out, I got a crop. And, I actually like it. Sort of an Anne Hathaway/ your one Frankie from the Saturdays. Or so the hairdresser told me.
It was a LOT longer at the side, down to my chin long, but I asked (yes I spoke up !) to have it cut shorter, lest I look like a mini-mosher with an emo fringe.
I like it, and my mother likes it, and I think most of my family likes it. But then of course you have the usual grumblers.
The the most miserable people in my family are my Grandmother and my cat.
The cat is a posh little b*stard who thinks he is better than the rest of us. He saunters around, tail held up with a little curl at the top of it. You try to speak to him and he will flash you his rear end before paying any attention. The little snob refuses to eat food that hasn’t immediately come from the packet, even if that’s because in his old age(13 years old) he’s forgotten that he just screamed at you for ten minuets for food. He goes out looks at the bowl, leaves and comes back a minuet later asking for more.
“Hey. Hey human. Human. HUMAN! Hey! Human! STOP IGNORING ME! HUUMAA-”
“What Tiptoes, what? What do you want?”
“I just gave you some.”
“No you didn’t.”
“I did. just a second ago.”
“You didn’t! Come on I’m hungry.”
“I just gave you some!”
“It is not you liar.”
“It is. The dog ate it.”
“Look , I can see it from here, go and eat it!”
“I don’t like that one.”
“You do, you won’t eat any other one.”
“It’s from, a can. I like sachet.”
“Oh for Goodness sake.”
*picks up bowl and pretends to put new food it*
“Here you go. Fresh food. ”
“I want to go out.”
Despite his tendency to drive me to dementia, I love the little ginger fuzzball.
He does not like my new hair. He took one look at me and ignored me for two days, screamed at somebody else for his food. He eventually got over it, and we are talking again.
My Grandmother on the other hand, did not get over it. Or so I assume. She hates anything new or out of the ordinary. She didn’t offer any thoughts on my plan to get my hair cut, just sat with a blank/frown face and said nothing (which is her default and usual state of being).
I came home from the hairdressers and pulled off my hat, hair poofing up with static. After quickly patting it down I go in and show her, little 360 turn and all.
“What do you think? Not bad eh?”
Her response was: “Jesus Christ”. And that was all she said on the matter.
Hardly surprising, but even the cat feigned more interest than that.
This is why I am grooming myself to becoming a cat lady. Even if your cat hates your new hair, the need for food will ensure he will always scream at you in mild affection, no matter what you look like.