Sunday, 20 March 2011

Dressing like a geek, trying to look chic and feeling like a freak

Friday 18th March
Red Nose Day and that means stress for parents of young children who have to do something for school like dressing up.  In my case my eldest had to dress as a school teacher and in my opinion looked fantastic as a geeky science teacher.  In true geeky style, when he didn’t win the fancy dress competition he burst into tears.  I too was upset, I’d spent ages on his costume.
Saturday 19th March
After eight months of split ends, looking like a witch and starting to resemble a hobo I decided to treat myself to a much needed haircut.
I bravely went to a hairdressers I had not used before that my friends had recommended.  The fact it is named after chocolate was a good sign.  So venturing into this new shop I realised I had left my wallet, phone and other worldly goods at home by the sofa.  Luckily they said my husband could pay over the phone despite the fact they didn’t know me from Adam.  Very impressed.
The hair washing experience was fabulous with a massage chair which forces your feet to go up and relaxes your whole body.  The only glitch to this experience being the client next to me crowing about her “bruvva” and “step-dad” and “man-u” and “’ow it don’t bovver ‘er”. 
The attractive male hairdresser decided to tell me my hair was lanky, thin, fine and “needed work”.  I felt very sexy and self assured at that point.  However he actually did a half decent job and I came away looking a few pence more than when I went in.
When I got home however I was confronted with an angry husband, crying child and frightened toddler.  I knew then that England had lost the rugby.  This did not bode well for the night ahead which involved eating at a restaurant my husband hates with a couple he can’t even remember because he found them so dull last time on a night when we are both exhausted.
As it turned out the evening was as predicted.  The food was hideous, the company monotonous and my husband a moaning bastard.
At least the hairdresser’s appointment was a treat.  
Sunday 20th March
I tried to subtly tell my husband I have “women’s pains” and my son says “oh, does that mean they are not as painful as men’s pains?  Men have more pain than women!”  He has much to learn.