And I’ll cry if I want to.
I don’t think I ever really understood that song until the eve of my 18th birthday. Before then the only tears I’d seen on a birthday were my sister’s…and she was only six-years-old so I think we can forgive her.
Let me set the scene. I was 17 and growing out my so-last-season short hair, which had been a success considering all the Posh Spice comparisons (it wasn’t a bad thing back then), but highly unsuccessful based on the numerous times I got mistaken for an adolescent boy.
So, as fellow grower-outers will understand, I was a tad overexcited that my hair had finally reached chin length. As my birthday approached, off I trotted to a well-known highstreet hairdresser for a quick trim before the big celebrations.
Warning: what happened next is all a bit of a daze.
I distinctly remember asking for a T-R-I-M. I don’t believe I could’ve made it any clearer but somewhere along the lines a massive miscommunication occurred. A razor (yes razor, as in, what they cut boys hair with) was brought out and copious amounts of hair fell to the ground. Needless to say, tears (plus a few sobs for good measure) followed.
Trust me, you would cry too if it happened to you.
Looking on the bright side, a valuable lesson was learned. I never, ever mess with my classic look (winged eye, poker straight hair and matte pink lip) for a big day. It’s just not worth the effort.I have 364 other days to experiment, be wild and stay in my house if it all goes horribly wrong. That’s why on Wednesday this week (beautyheaven’s official 1st birthday) I kept it classic. But the rest of the week has passed by in a blur of orange lips, yellow nails, hair up, down, left, right, tucked under and a multitude of different bronzers.
What’s your fail-safe look?
p.s. Big congrats to Elmo for the winning comment on yesterday’s Ed’s update.