Hair Raising Stuff
Settled down for the evening with every brochure and mag at my side, flicking through every page not leaving one unturned. Surely there had to be a style in one of them that was going to help me in my quest in finding the new image that I so badly craved.
A couple of hours of browsing had elapsed, and low and behold jumping out at me as plain as day, was the most wanting to die for hairstyle you ever did see. This was it with out a doubt. The style that I knew was going to give me a new lease of life.
After a visit to the shops, armed with hair colouring lotions conditioners scissors etc. I raced up the stairs to the bathroom missing every other step, I was so excited, Why would I not be excited? tomorrow I was to be a different person. No animosty spared between the old image in the mirror as I said my goodbyes.
Smelling like a peroxide skunk I carried on following the instructions on the box. No matter how sweet scented that sachet of conditioner was it was not powerful enough to rid the odour that lingered all around. It was all going to be worthwhile I said to myself glancing down for about the hundredth time at the picture in the mag.
Staring down at the photo in the magazine and back to my reflection in the mirror, something was wrong.
Two styles couldnt be any more different.
I followed the instructions as prompted, where have I gone wrong I yelled out loud.
I will tell you came a voice from the other side of the bathroom door. It was my husband who on hearing all the fuss decided to check out what was going on. Let me tell you what is going on I screamed back at him.
Explaining about how I felt about myself I handed him the magazine with the picture of this fabulous hairstyle on this beautiful model. He looked for a long while at the photo and then back at me, repeating this motion many times.
About the author: Sean Nalewanyjs has a online store which sells contact lenses and provides immigration reference.
