Whilst sitting in the hairdressers plush state of the art chair yesterday, feeling very pampered and important, I couldn't help but reflect on the fact that over the years I've suffered for the art.
When a friend announced that she wanted to train as a hairdresser I inadvertently said "I'll be there for you and if there's anything I can do to help just let me know?" Little did I know that I'd be a captive audience and over the forthcoming months lose eyelashes from one eye (whilst having my fringe trimmed), also all the colour from my hair during a burst plastic bag episode having highlights which created a 'Sid Vicious' lookalike - not really the look you want on the night before your engagement!) and having to cut my hair from spiky rollers that refused all attempts to free them, to name but a few. Thankfully my friend decided that hairdressing wasn't going to be her new career, a collective sigh could be heard from every potential family member who had been her guinea pig.
I've also had cold water rinses in the Far East with head massages that extended to way down my back with head slaps - quite literally! And once in the Middle East the water stopped flowing which necessitated in an apprentice having to run to the nearby shop for bottled water.
So to sit relaxed and undeterred by my new hairdresser's idea's for styles surprised by my outlook "well if I don't like it - it'll grow again"... Little do they know I've shed so much already.