in which i am thoroughly girly
Mar. 14th, 2007 07:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolSo, I finished that bastarding essay last night, and crawled into bed. It's all good. I bunged my ear plugs (totally not stolen from work, honest) in and just conked out. I can still normally hear stuff through them, but I must have been pretty zonked if I still couldn't hear people come in at about midnight. So I had a vaguely good night's sleep.
Woke up this morning, staggered into work, came home, etc, etc. However, today was an Exciting Day. An Exciting Day, with a Day Trip. I was slightly worried that my current tendancy to cough a lot and feel like death would mean that I couldn't go, but possibly my sleep overdose may have done some good. With Katie, we clambered into the car with a ready-made map and headed off to Kirkcaldy. I have never been to Kirkcaldy, unless you count passing through it on the train. It's a pretty big town by Fife standards, but more importantly, I had a free hair appointment there. And hey, I'm a student; I'm not going to pass up free stuff.
We made it in with surprisingly little incident - unusual, given that Katie and I are possibly the worst navigators known to man - parked up, and wandered into what was a very, very posh hairdressers. We flailed, but nevertheless insisted on our free stuff. We were treated very politely, asked when our dates were ("er... not for a while, but we're planning? To get married to seperate people, I hasten to point out?") and whatnot.
I really enjoyed myself and I feel thoroughly pampered. Hairdressers are terrifying people to me. My hair is... eccentric. My hair is described, not unfairly, as the white woman's afro, because it is big and curly and tends to try and eat people in the surrounding vicinity. You can't do much with it, and attempts for fashionable hairstyles tend to leave me running for the nearest hat. I don't suit hats either, which is sort of the worst part, in a way. But since I wasn't getting it cut, I was a very happy bunny. I got my hair treated with some fairly amazing gunk, got a head massage (a proper one!) and then left to my own devices to relax for a wee while. I am terrible, but I like other people washing my hair - it's incredibly relaxing. However, that part ended, and they attempted to blow dry my hair.
One of the things you do not do with my hair is use a hairdryer. It is a Bad Idea. It is a suicidally bad idea, in fact, because it makes the frizz hundreds of time worse. Nevertheless, god love 'em, they tried.
Then, like all sane people, they got the hair straighteners out. I haven't straightened my hair for over a year now out of sheer apathy, and oh my. My hair is actually quite long - you just can't tell when it's all curly and generaly scraped back in a bun or a plait. It's well below my shoulders, and er, I keep on getting a shock when I look at myself in the mirror. Katie thought there was someone who didn't live here in the kitchen earlier. I look different. In fact, I hesitate to say it, but I think I might even look a little bit pretty. I haven't felt like that for a long, long time.
I am a product of my generation and it's all-consuming obsession with Looking Good, but I never really buy new clothes, rarely make an effort, and have skin that tries to eat my face, big fuzzy hair, slightly geeky glasses (only type that suit me) and a figure that I quite like - for God's sake, I'm only a size 12 - but apparently means I am hideously obese by modern day standards. Also I live with devastatingly attactive women. So, you know, I think I'm relatively attractive, and Simon clearly likes me, but at the moment, I feel pretty. Which I haven't felt for ages. It is nice.
This isn't a request for everyone to comment saying BUT YOU ARE A BEAUTIFUL FLOWER OF A PERSON. I know I am a beautiful flower of a person, I know I have a wonderful rack and a Good Personality, but according to traditional standards I am too fucking lazy to look pretty. That's all I'm trying to say. It's nice.
Then, in the style of being girly, we went to Dundee. Which is very far. In the other direction. Saw lots of Fife, though, and in effots to be girly, I bought tights. And a t-shirt. FEAR MY DECADENCE.
Now I am at home, and working on Yet Another Essay, but I feel rather more relaxed about the entire thing and just better in and about myself. If I continue on an upswing health-wine, I will perservere to keep my hair dry (which should make showering fun) and go out Bopping like this. Apparently Sarah has GHD straighteners and has had them all year. These are some of the only straighteners to straighten my hair, so who knows; maybe I'll do this more often?
Doctor's appointment tomorrow. If s/he can sort out the fact I keep on coughing slightly like Gollum every ten minutes, that would make the entire world a happier place. Well, that and another 1,400 words on my essay. Ho hum.
Woke up this morning, staggered into work, came home, etc, etc. However, today was an Exciting Day. An Exciting Day, with a Day Trip. I was slightly worried that my current tendancy to cough a lot and feel like death would mean that I couldn't go, but possibly my sleep overdose may have done some good. With Katie, we clambered into the car with a ready-made map and headed off to Kirkcaldy. I have never been to Kirkcaldy, unless you count passing through it on the train. It's a pretty big town by Fife standards, but more importantly, I had a free hair appointment there. And hey, I'm a student; I'm not going to pass up free stuff.
We made it in with surprisingly little incident - unusual, given that Katie and I are possibly the worst navigators known to man - parked up, and wandered into what was a very, very posh hairdressers. We flailed, but nevertheless insisted on our free stuff. We were treated very politely, asked when our dates were ("er... not for a while, but we're planning? To get married to seperate people, I hasten to point out?") and whatnot.
I really enjoyed myself and I feel thoroughly pampered. Hairdressers are terrifying people to me. My hair is... eccentric. My hair is described, not unfairly, as the white woman's afro, because it is big and curly and tends to try and eat people in the surrounding vicinity. You can't do much with it, and attempts for fashionable hairstyles tend to leave me running for the nearest hat. I don't suit hats either, which is sort of the worst part, in a way. But since I wasn't getting it cut, I was a very happy bunny. I got my hair treated with some fairly amazing gunk, got a head massage (a proper one!) and then left to my own devices to relax for a wee while. I am terrible, but I like other people washing my hair - it's incredibly relaxing. However, that part ended, and they attempted to blow dry my hair.
One of the things you do not do with my hair is use a hairdryer. It is a Bad Idea. It is a suicidally bad idea, in fact, because it makes the frizz hundreds of time worse. Nevertheless, god love 'em, they tried.
Then, like all sane people, they got the hair straighteners out. I haven't straightened my hair for over a year now out of sheer apathy, and oh my. My hair is actually quite long - you just can't tell when it's all curly and generaly scraped back in a bun or a plait. It's well below my shoulders, and er, I keep on getting a shock when I look at myself in the mirror. Katie thought there was someone who didn't live here in the kitchen earlier. I look different. In fact, I hesitate to say it, but I think I might even look a little bit pretty. I haven't felt like that for a long, long time.
I am a product of my generation and it's all-consuming obsession with Looking Good, but I never really buy new clothes, rarely make an effort, and have skin that tries to eat my face, big fuzzy hair, slightly geeky glasses (only type that suit me) and a figure that I quite like - for God's sake, I'm only a size 12 - but apparently means I am hideously obese by modern day standards. Also I live with devastatingly attactive women. So, you know, I think I'm relatively attractive, and Simon clearly likes me, but at the moment, I feel pretty. Which I haven't felt for ages. It is nice.
This isn't a request for everyone to comment saying BUT YOU ARE A BEAUTIFUL FLOWER OF A PERSON. I know I am a beautiful flower of a person, I know I have a wonderful rack and a Good Personality, but according to traditional standards I am too fucking lazy to look pretty. That's all I'm trying to say. It's nice.
Then, in the style of being girly, we went to Dundee. Which is very far. In the other direction. Saw lots of Fife, though, and in effots to be girly, I bought tights. And a t-shirt. FEAR MY DECADENCE.
Now I am at home, and working on Yet Another Essay, but I feel rather more relaxed about the entire thing and just better in and about myself. If I continue on an upswing health-wine, I will perservere to keep my hair dry (which should make showering fun) and go out Bopping like this. Apparently Sarah has GHD straighteners and has had them all year. These are some of the only straighteners to straighten my hair, so who knows; maybe I'll do this more often?
Doctor's appointment tomorrow. If s/he can sort out the fact I keep on coughing slightly like Gollum every ten minutes, that would make the entire world a happier place. Well, that and another 1,400 words on my essay. Ho hum.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-15 09:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-14 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-15 10:02 am (UTC)Plural! You are all FREAKISHLY GOOD LOOKING. Sarah is all boho-indie-cool, and Corinne is a stick insect despite apparently living off Super Noodles, nicotine and strange meat products, and you are all pale-and-interesting with better hair, a better figure and a better dress sense than me. And you have a nicer smile in any photo taken, whereas I apparently develop a double-chin in every photo of me ever taken. IT IS NOT FAIR. *resents you all*
I have Big Hair. Oh, and a Wonderful Personality. *sobs*
So yes, you are a special flower of specialness. DAMN YOU.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-15 12:52 am (UTC)and where are the photos?
xx