Hair-cuts, Spray-tans and Giggling

Hair-Cuts, Spray-Tans

and Giggling

This is part of the ‘Make Me Yummy’ blog hop.  (I don’t think I’ve been ‘Yummied’ for a minute, but I think I look a bit less scraggy at least, hopefully anyway!)

Today I went for an afternoon of hair cuts and pampering, Sis arranged all the appointments as part of a belated birthday present and it was all very exciting.  ‘Exciting’ might sound a bit of an over the top term to use, but I am virtually hair dresser phobic (1 hair cut a year usually, and only when my split ends start looking like fern fronds), and I have never set foot in a beauty parlour in my life before.  I’ve recently become sick of having fluffy split hair, so although I hate the small talk and the awful personal space issues involved with having my hair done, I was looking forward to looking a bit less like a scruff bag.

This is the 'before' pic. Straggly and slightly mardy looking for some reason.

I’m not a ‘girly-girl’ at all, and spend most of my life wearing Cat-Boots, jeans and whatever top falls out the cupboard first.  I style my hair by brushing it, simple as.  My beauty regime is, E45 cream every now and then.  My nails are left to grow, and then snap off, and then grow again, ad infinitum.  I very rarely use nail varnish unless my youngest asks if she can put it on me, and then it tends to be blue, sparkly and looks like its been painted on with a house paint brush.  I last had my nails manicured in 2003, wear heels about 3 times a year (and always wonder why I bother), and walk like a transvestite when I do wear them.   I’m rubbish at this femenine malarkey all in all.  So, you see, an afternoon of pampering was a completely new experience for me.

This is me mid hair-do.  I know it’s quite important to keep up with hair cuts, and that the end is justified by the means – but I still think it’s awful that they make us look like complete idiots, and then leave us sat there for ages and ages, staring at ourselves in the mirror, in front of other people.  It’s just cruel.  I’d rather be left in a cupboard whilst in this state.

Does the end really justify the means?!! I mean, really?!!

The haircut cost me a bl**dy fortune if you’ll excuse my french Next time I’ll use the clippers!),  I refuse to feel too guilty though as this haircutting event is annual, so it’s not like I spend a fortune every other week.    Next, we tottered over to the beauty parlour where Sis had her eyebrows plucked, I had my nails done and we both had spray tans.  I haven’t laughed so much for ages.

Sis had to lie on a couch whilst having her eyebrows plucked; she said  ‘ow!’ every now, I suspect I was very unsympathetic and called her a wuss.  Mind you, having your eyebrows waxed has g0t to be painful.  The skin isn’t very thick around there is it?  The supposed ‘monobrow’ was tamed (not that I noticed her eyebrows looking that out of hand anyway to be honest) and Sis was left with beautifully sculpted and slightly surprised looking eyebrows.

Before we had our spray tan, I had my nails prepped for the manicure, I muttered apologetically about the dry skin on my hands and felt rather self conscious about the wrinkled joints on my fingers due to my excema, but the therapist was very nice and politely said it wasn’t noticeable at all and complemented me on my nails strength instead.  A bit of flattery goes a long way, and I didn’t feel quite so bad.  I’m so glad she was friendly!  Considering the spray tan process I had to feel comfortable with her as my beauty therapist, or I couldn’t have gone through with it.  You see it was incredibly embarrassing and utterly ridiculous.

My usually sadly neglected nails look lovely for a change!

Sis and I were ushered into a little room and told to undress, it was up to us whether or not we wanted to be spray tanned with our bras on or not.  We decided to be brave and went braless.  I’m not saying much, but I shall say this, paper knickers are hilarious.   There was a hell of a lot of laughing and then one by one we were taken into the spraying room, which was basically a shower room as far as I could see.  Sis returned to the room looking visibly browner and smirking, and then it was my turn.

I really, really struggled not to giggle uncontrollably.  The therapist told me to stand facing her, arms out to the side, bent downwards at the elbows – basically as if I was about to start dancing like a robot, or like a weak elbowed scarecrow.  Then she switched on the hoover sort of thing, with a hose attached to it and the tiny room was filled with noise. I was told to stand forwards, sideways, with my less or arms this way or the other – it was like a bizarre near-naked game of Simple Simon.   All I could think was ‘they paint cars like this’ –  I was being painted like they paint mini metros on a factory floor, it was absolutely surreal!

After being thoroughly coated, I returned to the other room where my Sis sat clothed.  I was still sticky and covered in the stuff so I wandered around the room windmilling my arms and trying to dry myself as quickly as I could.  Further hysterical laughter,  jokes about Dale Winton were exchanged and we compared our unbelievably bright white tan lines.  I’m very relieved I have bought some high waisted jeans, put it that way.

The therapist came to take us downstairs (I’d got dressed by this point I hasten to add), and I had my nails painted a burgundy/pink colour.  Whilst brushing each nail delicately with the hue, she asked what I’d thought of my first spray tan.  I grinned and told her that all I could think of was that they do that sort of thing with cars.  I don’t think it was the answer she was expecting, but she was very professional and did not snigger.

The 'New Me!'. I'm trying to do 'Ta-daaah! but look more like I'm directing traffic.

So there you have it!  A very unusual, and very fun afternoon, pampering appears to be alright after all.  I may even have another go at it!  My nails clatter beautifully on the keyboard and look elegant for once, my hair is tidier (but doesn’t feel like my hair just yet), and my skin is a slightly odd shade of gravy. Apparently spray tans darken overnight, I am awaiting the morning with fear and anticipation……

I went to Ruth Crompton’s ‘The Dressing Room’ in Colne (this is not a sponsored post by the way) and they were lovely.  Very friendly and professional, even when faced with two grown adults giggling like schoolkids.

P.S.  I wonder if I ever decided to go to a fancy dress party as a smurf, would they spray paint me blue if I asked them nicely…hmmm


5 responses to “Hair-cuts, Spray-tans and Giggling

  1. Haven’t laughed so much in ages. Sounds exactly what I’d be like. Well done for treating yourself though, if you enjoyed it then why not. I think I’ll be giving the spray tan a miss though! 🙂

  2. Honestly, Spray-tans are the silliest things ever! I’ll just buy a tube of tanning cream next time I think. It was worth it this time, just for the sense of adventure, but if I see that therapist ever again I’ll just have to stare at the pavement or something. Although it was fun, I’m not going to make a habit of it, far too expensive apart from anything else!

  3. Ahhhh what a brilliant post!!

    I’m exactly the same as you – I put off having my haircut because I can’t stand the inane small talk and as for the spray tan – well, you’re far braver than I am!

  4. Thoroughly enjoyed reading that! You are so brave!
    I suffer from intense fear of hairdresser …it has a name….weaslaphobia! I wonder if there is a name yet for spray tan phobia? 🙂

  5. Hello there, thanks for joining in with the blog hop. Sounds like a fun afternoon with pampering and giggling, I think we could all do with a bit of that! I think you look great with your new hair and tan and those nails are gorgeous..I am jealous! x

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