Holy Shirley Temple I’ve gone from poker straight to perm.

My whole life, I’ve wanted curly hair.  I’ve tried sleeping in rollers, sleeping in braids, curling irons, curling with a straightener, the works.  It always ends up the same – the curls fall out within hours leaving my hair as flat and straight as always.

I thought about getting a perm so many times, but the idea of baking my head in chemicals for a couple of hours always scared me straight, and I never did it.  Plus, the money!  Beauty treatments in London aren’t cheap – and a perm isn’t something you want to skimp on.

But the idea never really left me, and suddenly here I was, no big holidays or weddings or family reunions in sight, and in desperate need of a big hair cut.  I was bored stiff of my long, straight, dull hair.  So into the salon I went, and off went the hair.  Because I’m a compulsive over-sharer, and I need to be validated in my decision by having you all tell me this was a great idea, I’ve decided to document it…

Processed with Moldiv
This isn’t my first drastic chop… here are some of the others.  

I booked an appointment at a fancy chain of salons (figuring if it went wrong I had the best chance of a do-over or my money back) and got in the chair.  Here’s the before picture…

Me, before the big chop.
Me, before the big chop.

And oh my goodness! I’m a low maintenance girl. Not because I’m morally superior or so brimming with self-confidence that I don’t need make-up, but because I’m lazy, and my skin breaks out whenever I wear make-up and I hate breakouts. This meant I was completely unprepared for the two and a half hours in the hairdresser. First, the chop – and boy was it weird seeing all my hair on the floor.

Chop chop!
Chop chop!

Then, the mushroom. The hairdresser rolled the perming rods all over my head, doused them in chemicals, and tucked my hair into a mushroom to rest.

Me, being a mushroom.  It smelled like chemical death.
Me, being a mushroom. It smelled like chemical death.

Then, off came the mushroom, and she washed out the chemicals, and sprayed the perming solution in. I rested awkwardly in the shampooing station waiting for it to set, then she washed it out, conditioned it, and stuck me under the heater.

Under the heater, looking tired and weirdly washed out.
Under the heater, looking tired and weirdly washed out.

Finally, a blast with the diffuser hairdryer, and it was finished and I could finally put my glasses back on and check it out.

Me afterwards!
Me afterwards!

It looks so crazily different – and, I think, really natural. I’m still coming to terms with the change, but I really like it. Being very honest, it’s hard for me to separate the actual haircut with the amount of money I spent on it. I think it looks great… but if I’d known how much it was going to cost me in total, I don’t think I would have done it. My normal beauty spend per month is probably about £30, so this was a stunningly large amount for me.  But! I’m an independent woman of (small) means, and this was something I wanted, so I’m trying to forget the money, and focus on the fact that for the first time in my life, I have curly hair!

Now the big question is: how the hell do I style it?

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