Natty Scissor Hands

As a child I had hopes and dreams of becoming a hairdresser (as I am now a publisher they obviously did not come true) – but I still feel obliged and eager to live the dream with anyone who is willing to offer up their head of hair.

Anyone that knows me will find it easy to imagine me as a child making all the neighbourhood kids sit in a chair while I taught myself the ancient art of “the hair cut”. I was forced into early retirement as a hair “cutter” as some of the children’s mothers felt the need to knock on our front door and complain. Who complains about a free hair cut! Very ungrateful I thought. Needless to say my career as a cutter ended before it really got started.

So after I was banned from scissors I switched to styling only. Now styling I loved! I loved taking out my little Velcro curlers and curling someone’s hair. Twisting and turning, taking my role very seriously and when I ran out of victims I chased down our long haired dog and worked my magic on him. Chatting and styling away with not a care in the world for the poor person (or dog) I was using to practice my hairdressing skills on.

Now at 32 the need to wear my hairdressing hat is still there, although it’s harder to find people willing to let me improve their existing style. There have been a select few willing to step into the Mrs Tink “Salon of Beauty” and it’s those few poor souls I would like to tell you about …

Recently I was all dressed up for a girls night out on the town when a girlfriend complained that she had forgotten to have her fringe trimmed. Full of champagne I convinced her that as a child my speciality was in fact fringe trims! As selling is what I do best the scissors were happily placed in my hand. We did not end up going out on the town that night as she ended up looking like an cranky marionette puppet when I was done. We laughed at the time … but not so funny the next morning.

So now that cutting is out maybe colouring is my thing. Recently I was also able to sell to my best friend the idea that I was an experienced colourist. The word “experienced” is a loose term but hey I had seen it done many times and also had my own hair coloured many times, so technically I am experienced. I coloured her hair from blonde to bright superhero red but forgot to do the underneath section at the back. After proudly admiring my handy work I realised we needed more colour, as I had already used it all up thinking I was done. Oh dear nothing is ever easy and my friend was unthrilled… and to really make matters worse that was the last packet of tint left at the shop across the road. So we hit the phones calling everywhere in a panic. My knight in shining armour Mr Tink saved the day, but he had to drive all the way across town and by the time he got back and we applied the new batch the colours did not quite match. In my defence from a distance it looked really lovely and you could hardly even see the two tone.

Sadly the stories don’t end there my lovely Pomeranian dog Lou Lou was the next to fall. It was summer and she was really hot and uncomfortable. Mr Tink rang every dog groomer on the Coast and they were all booked. I had convinced myself this was my time to shine, so I layed out my tools and began to work. Have you ever seen the RACQ commercial were the guy starts trimming a massive hedge and by the time he is done there are just a few twigs left? It was like just like that. She looked more like a greyhound than Pom, but again in my defense she was extremely cool during summer and she did not even complain once.

I thought my days were over in the hairdressing world, no one says yes anymore when I ask can I style their hair – even the dogs take off running when I pick up scissors. So how I convinced my lovely husband Mr Tink to let me bleach his hair is still a mystery. Now since Miss 6 months arrived we are a family that spends a lot of time at home. So after a few vodkas I convinced him that a fancy sun kissed look would brighten up his world and make him feel great and best of all no one would be any the wiser. Now surprisingly he said yes! Finally a REAL client and bleaching was sure to be my specialty. So before he could change his mind I started vigorously mixing the bleach and developer, mixing and chatting (as all good hairdressers do) asking him about his day and laughing at his jokes… I was in my element! After brushing the colour on to a combing and running it through his hair I realised that after only 5 minutes I was done. I decided this was not enough and he would look much nicer with a full head bleach -yes that would suit him much better! So instead of talking it through with him I swiftly swapped the comb for a colour brush and painted his entire head. Now all good colourists know that colour is all about timing but as we now know I’m not a colourist. Instead I am a ‘tipsy vodka drinking nutcase’ trying to live out a fantasy of being a hairdresser! So after about 30 mins I recommend to Mr Tink to shampoo it out. He was on his way upstairs and got distracted and it ended up staying on for over 40 mins. When Mr Tink finally slithered downstairs and his sun kissed look was ummmm not what I was expecting. He looked exactly like one of the members of the 1980’s band ‘Bros’! Mr Tink is not happy, he keeps looking in the mirror saying “what have you done”? Once again we laughed at the time … not so funny the next morning. I did offer to fix it, but that just upset him even more … ouch !

So lovelies the moral of the story is – dreams are great – just don’t make your family and friends suffer for them x

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