Something terrible has happened. I went out to Alice’s house for a band practice today (which went very well, not that it matters now because I will never be leaving the house again, so I suppose the band is over). When Cass and I were waiting for the bus to get home, it started to rain, and we got totally soaked. Like, all my clothes were wet right down to my underwear, which is pretty revolting. Anyway, I squelched home from my bus stop in my sopping Converse and changed into my pyjamas and towelled off my hair. My hair was almost dry, and I was starting to feel normal again when I went to the loo and caught sight of myself in the mirror over the sink.
I was so horrified I actually shrieked, and my mum came running upstairs to see what was wrong.
‘Look at my hair!’ I cried.
‘Oh for God’s sake, Rebecca, don’t scream like that,’ said Mum. ‘I thought you’d had a terrible accident.’
‘But look at it!’ I said. I couldn’t believe it. Basically, it turns out that the only thing that was keeping my fringe all flat and shiny was all the blow-drying and styling products from the hairdresser’s yesterday. Now it has gone back to its natural state, and it is just like my childhood fringe! Except I think it’s actually worse because my hair seems to have got much thicker since then!
‘It’s just a bit … fluffy,’ said Mum.
‘It’s bushy!’ I said. ‘It’s like a bushy mop!’ My hair has always had bushy-mop tendencies, of course, but at least when it’s long the weight of the hair keeps it fairly flat. But now the fringe was just sticking out wildly. I didn’t look like a cool French girl anymore. I looked like someone out of a 1980s film with giant pouffy hair.
And then, of course, Rachel came in and started laughing.
‘Wow, the eighties revival has started in this house,’ she said. ‘That’s some big hair.’
‘Shut up!’ I said. ‘It went funny in the rain.’
‘It certainly did,’ said Rachel. And I couldn’t bear lookingat her horrible laughing face for another second so I ran off to my room. But even there my torment continued (and not just because I could see myself and my ridiculous hair in the mirror on my dressing table). That evil Mulligan kid was in her room, and when she saw me she started laughing and put her hands up on her head as if she was puffing up a giant mane of hair! I hate her so much.
And now someone is knocking at my door. Can’t the world leave me alone in my misery for a minute?
Okay, maybe Rachel isn’t totally evil. She got her hair straighteners and lots of anti-frizz serum and tried to calm my hair again. It looked slightly better when she’d tried her magic, and it’s not wavy anymore, but it’s still sticking out quite a bit. Also, I get quite nervous having those hot straighteners right next to my eyes. It feels a bit dangerous. I don’t think you’re meant to use them on fringes. Anyway, I still look ridiculous. Cass rang to see about meeting up tomorrow, and I had to tell her what had happened. To her great credit she didn’t actually say ‘I told you so.’ She just expressed sympathy and saidshe’d try and fix it tomorrow, using her years of fringe-battling experience. Maybe the freedom of coming out has made her a more noble person?
Huh, so much for Cass becoming more noble. As soon as I arrived at her house today and she actually saw my stupid fringe, she said, ‘Yikes! Well, I did tell you not to do it.’
‘Cass!’ I said. ‘That’s not very helpful.’
‘No, it’s not,’ said Alice. ‘Come on, Cass. Use your magic anti-fringe powers!’
‘Oh, all right,’ said Cass. ‘Sorry, Bex.’
Anyway, I suppose she redeemed herself by trying to make my hair look normal again. She said that when a fringe is really misbehaving there’s no point in trying to flatten it out.
‘You’ve just got to pretend it doesn’t exist,’ she said. ‘This is where hair pins come in.’
Then she and Alice spent about five
I was so horrified I actually shrieked, and my mum came running upstairs to see what was wrong.
‘Look at my hair!’ I cried.
‘Oh for God’s sake, Rebecca, don’t scream like that,’ said Mum. ‘I thought you’d had a terrible accident.’
‘But look at it!’ I said. I couldn’t believe it. Basically, it turns out that the only thing that was keeping my fringe all flat and shiny was all the blow-drying and styling products from the hairdresser’s yesterday. Now it has gone back to its natural state, and it is just like my childhood fringe! Except I think it’s actually worse because my hair seems to have got much thicker since then!
‘It’s just a bit … fluffy,’ said Mum.
‘It’s bushy!’ I said. ‘It’s like a bushy mop!’ My hair has always had bushy-mop tendencies, of course, but at least when it’s long the weight of the hair keeps it fairly flat. But now the fringe was just sticking out wildly. I didn’t look like a cool French girl anymore. I looked like someone out of a 1980s film with giant pouffy hair.
And then, of course, Rachel came in and started laughing.
‘Wow, the eighties revival has started in this house,’ she said. ‘That’s some big hair.’
‘Shut up!’ I said. ‘It went funny in the rain.’
‘It certainly did,’ said Rachel. And I couldn’t bear lookingat her horrible laughing face for another second so I ran off to my room. But even there my torment continued (and not just because I could see myself and my ridiculous hair in the mirror on my dressing table). That evil Mulligan kid was in her room, and when she saw me she started laughing and put her hands up on her head as if she was puffing up a giant mane of hair! I hate her so much.
And now someone is knocking at my door. Can’t the world leave me alone in my misery for a minute?
Okay, maybe Rachel isn’t totally evil. She got her hair straighteners and lots of anti-frizz serum and tried to calm my hair again. It looked slightly better when she’d tried her magic, and it’s not wavy anymore, but it’s still sticking out quite a bit. Also, I get quite nervous having those hot straighteners right next to my eyes. It feels a bit dangerous. I don’t think you’re meant to use them on fringes. Anyway, I still look ridiculous. Cass rang to see about meeting up tomorrow, and I had to tell her what had happened. To her great credit she didn’t actually say ‘I told you so.’ She just expressed sympathy and saidshe’d try and fix it tomorrow, using her years of fringe-battling experience. Maybe the freedom of coming out has made her a more noble person?
Huh, so much for Cass becoming more noble. As soon as I arrived at her house today and she actually saw my stupid fringe, she said, ‘Yikes! Well, I did tell you not to do it.’
‘Cass!’ I said. ‘That’s not very helpful.’
‘No, it’s not,’ said Alice. ‘Come on, Cass. Use your magic anti-fringe powers!’
‘Oh, all right,’ said Cass. ‘Sorry, Bex.’
Anyway, I suppose she redeemed herself by trying to make my hair look normal again. She said that when a fringe is really misbehaving there’s no point in trying to flatten it out.
‘You’ve just got to pretend it doesn’t exist,’ she said. ‘This is where hair pins come in.’
Then she and Alice spent about five
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