Raphaella Withlove: Unmanageable manes & other things.

Today has not been a good day, today has been haircut day.

(Cue Beethoven's 5th symphony)

This huge event generally takes place around once a year in this particular case its been 18 months since I last had a date with the destiny of my split ends.

It all started out just grand, gossiping with edward scissor hands over a tomato coloured tea.

(My big guilty pleasure in the hairdressers is making up new life stories about ones self.

One day im a Marine biologist, sometimes a medical marijuana tester, other times a pilot.! Its my one hour a year to live out a fabulous, fabricated, fantasy.

I should make a quick point though. If you do try this at home, don't use the same hairdresser twice. Let just say...AWQUAD.COM)

So whilst I was babbling about my oh-so-wonderful life as Harpist in the Manchester Orchestra, I looked down to find a golden retriever at my feet. arghhhh!!

I asked for a fluffy fringe not a freaking jarhead!

JEEZ!

This is the whole reason I resent the annual event so much.

I actually cant even begin to describe the enormity of this situation. I thought I was seriously going to have a heart attack. Yes there was tears, yes there was heavy breathing and some pretty foul language. Which I of course later apologised for.

OK. So I get home with my pockets much lighter and my hair looks exactly the same, but what looked like inches of hair being taken, felt like pieces of my soul.

.....I know, I know I sound uberly ridiculous and shallow but I honestly believe there must be a valid reason out there for this baby like behaviour.

The particular theory that im going to go with is this....

You know how your mind manages to conceal times of extreme pain and anger?... There must of been a truly traumatic hairdressing incident from my childhood that is just so utterly painful that I reenact that very moment I enter the salon!