The Haps

Ah, how the cycle of life turns, and I found myself back in the blogosphere.

My poor, neglected blog was in the throes of its melodramatic death spasms, when here I am again, giving it a shake and ruffling its feathers.

If only, if only, I had something riveting to report - "I've created a perpetual motion machine (no really)". "I've adopted Madonna's baby". "I've dyed my hair blue". But alas, it's not to be. Truly though, there was, at least, a chance that the third statement may have come to pass. Currently enjoying the freedom of not holding down a seriously conservative job, the thought of azure hair was strongly leaning on me. This was my one chance to throw myself out there. (At least until retirement, of course, when I can fully lavender myself up to the hilt).

Sure, I had some misgivings. Like, what if my hair doesn't match anything? It's hard enough to match tops and bottoms, let alone adding a third degree of difficulty. And what if it faded and just looked like a terrible highlighter tragedy? Certainly, there were some practical concerns that I needed to consider.

But, ooh, the temptation. The appeal of having hair that just stuck it to society and said, "Sure, you may be cool. But I have blue hair. So, like, meh". The ability to walk into West End and not feel like a foreigner. The ability to listen to Britney and still retain edginess (sort of).

So I rang my hairdresser. I locked in the appointment. And I braced myself for the new, blue and improved Ali.

With barely-concealed excitement I revealed to my uber-grungy hairdresser my reckless intentions. He listened intently. He nodded with understanding...

And then he told me that if I wanted something different, maybe we could "do a nice blonde".



And so, I now have a nice blonde.

Look out world.