It’ll all end in tiaras

I wouldn’t go to the hairdressers, to be honest, if I could blow dry it myself, but what with the frozen shoulder and the frizzy hair – it just looks better if they do it. But last time I was there – well, maybe I was a bit tired.  There was this girl, just sitting there, staring at herself in the mirror – I mean, we all do it a bit but she was – well, transfixed.

Terence, the top stylist, was doing her hair – she’s that shade of blonde you know’s not natural but it’s hard to tell from the real thing, not a single obvious streak. And her skin – pale as lemon pith. So there she sits, cool as a cucumber in a sleeveless top, scarcely a bump in her blouse where her breasts should be. And no bra. You could just tell.

Maybe I was more than just tired, maybe I was – I don’t know – jealous?

Anyway, she’s having an up-do, just a trial run. She’s getting married. It’s her second bloody rehearsal and she’s having her nails done too. I don’t know what set me off, maybe it was the tiara. Yes, I think it was the tiara. When he set that into the up-do and teased out a couple of locks so they just hung down – a bit like ivy trailing out of a hanging basket – something inside me flipped.

One by one the hairdressers turned round, including the girl doing mine. They all had hairdryers going and before you know it they’re standing there, either side the shop, hairdryers pointing upwards like a hot-air guard of honour. They’re all going ‘ooh, isn’t she lovely,’  ‘ah, just like a princess’, ‘you enjoy it hon, your fairy tale day’.

She’s still staring.  Oblivious. You could’ve passed out with a heart attack and she’d have missed it.

I stood up – looked a right fool with my hair half wet, half dry – walked up behind her and looked at her in the mirror. Made her notice me. Then God knows what made me do it, but I pulled up my top.

‘See these,’ I said, everyone staring at me, ‘ that’s what yours’ll look like after you’ve had four bloody children. Fairy tale day? Tragic bloody ending, more like. Don’t do it. He’s not worth it. They’re not worth it.’

Terence took me by the arm, Gill put down her dryer and pulled my top back down. I left with my hair still half done. It’s looked terrible all week.

I don’t think I’ll be going there again.

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