I’m seriously considering taking a hair course, just for my daughters. Oh, I’ll do it…don’t you think I won’t. It’s not my fault they ended up getting the Enderby genes (NOT my side of the family, thank you very much) and now they’ve both been cursed to grow up with hair like metal wire. The one mercy is that it looks lovely once it’s brushed, but that process can take up to an hour, and that’s not including washing time with a special shampoo that is rather cruelly named ‘Guantanamo Frizz’.
Oh, ha ha, funny copywriting people.
I think as they get older, we’ll need to take them to the salon more and more for all kinds of things, so I’ll probably save money in the long run. Well, maybe. I’m sure there’s a reliable South Melbourne hairdressing place just around the corner with a lax policy towards standing orders and regular customers. And if you knew my Raya and Charlotte, then you’d think they were already known to the hairdressers of Melbourne anyway. Those girls with the nice red hair that also happens to be strong enough to use as a garrote. I suppose they could always put that talent to use if they want to become lady assassins.
So, my choice is to take a hair course and learn to untangle these stubborn tresses, or find a hairdresser somewhere who’ll take pity and give us some pity rates. There’s no official ‘hair untangling’ service listed in most windows, so maybe it’s not as expensive as I’m thinking? Maybe they just whip out the special, heavy-duty brush that all salons have lying around, run it through a few times, use some of their training to work out the kinks and do it in a quarter of the time. I don’t know if I have the dexterity for something like that. Maybe it really is a job for Melbourne’s hair salons and their untangling expertise. OR…I could convince Raya and Charlotte that pixie-cuts are totally in.