This is typical Emma Hair. Actually, this is typical Emma Behaviour as well. And that would be the Boy Wonder tucked neatly into my neck. I’m wearing his €110 Ray Bans and he’s wearing (and cleverly concealing) my €1.50 shades from Penneys. I have the biggest cow’s lick you’ve ever seen in your life.
Here is my cow’s lick in all its bovine glory. Also, those shades were €1.50 in Penney’s too. And that would be my lovely kettle necklace hanging ‘round my neck. Note the utter shtate of my hair. Cotton-woolly and black roots and splitty-enddy.
Sitting in a lovely makeshift hairdresser’s. In an office chair. Covered in tinfoil. No pain, no gain.
Finished product. Got the whole mess chopped off. My hair hasn’t been this short in, gosh, nearly three years. And, wow, it is blonde. I feel less knackerish now, what with not having dirty black roots. My hair feels so much healthier, even if it has been bleached to within an inch of its life.
Of course, now I’m bored of being blonde. I miss being ginger. But that head up there cost eighty squid to create so it’ll be a while before I can allow myself to dye it again in good conscience.
So there I am anyway. Bobby and cutesie or something. Maybe a bit Simpson-y as well. Oh well. (: