Friday, January 19, 2007

Feathered-mullet board shorts MUST be better

Boyos, take it from me. Chicks fear a few things in life. Finding a new hairdresser and purchasing new togs are two of them. For some reason, I chose to do both of these things to myself within the space of two days.

Let’s just say that if you see some dizzy cow wearing a hat and eating a crapload of lettuce, that would probably be me. Hurrah for fat arses and lousy haircuts, eh?

The new togs were yesterday’s horror. I haven’t had bathers for quite some time. A couple of years ago, I was stupid enough to purchase a bikini. Ask me not the reason why, mine is but to do and fry. I wore The Bikini twice and felt an utter twat both times, so the last time I was collecting up clothes for the Goodwill, the barely-worn twatkini was the first item in the bag. I hope someone with less of a bargearse than I have is wearing it and feeling happy with herself right now.

I should probably point out that while Bloke and I live roughly 90 seconds from the beach, I don’t swim. I have a small blind spot when it comes to water. OK, fine, call it a Marlon-Brando-sized phobia. That’s fine. I can deal. But whatever the case, I do not swim and I do not put my face in water. Period. However, in a coupla weeks, I’m getting’ on a jet plane. Bloke said, “They have a pool here. You need bathers.” There was a lot of whining and growling on my part, but yesterday I did my duty and went looking for bathers.

Oh, farrrrk.

Apparently, most bathers are itty-bitty triangles made of old ice-cream wrappers, nylon strings and hibiscus flowers. Pfft, who knew? The ones that weren’t made from tropical-flavoured Calipo papers and thread were all size 28 and made of tent-lengths of ruching and tucking. For the love of Ford, is there nothing in between? Why must all bathers be pink, orange and brown beer coasters held together with dental floss, or a floral couch cover? Whyyyy?!

Shopping for swimwear is soul-destroying. You have to spend a lot of time looking at all your jubbly bits in a very brightly-lit mirror. I would be far happier in a 1920s neck-to-knee cossie. Or a burqha. Hurrah for the burqha! Dateline or some such program showed some Muslim girls swimming at the beach and, all religious allegiances aside (especially since I'm an atheist and have none) I would very much be in for the beach sheet. Can I please, please have a beach burqha? Please?

I spent a good hour and a half hunting through various racks of swimwear. Needless to say, I had little joy. Finally, after much searching among floss and discarded ice-cream skins, I found a pair of black boy-leg shorts and a black-and-white halter top that covered most of my jubbly bits. Actually, it looked like something Paris Hilton would wear to a nightclub, but about 12 sizes larger. They were acceptable – quite cute, even – but before I can wear them, I must lose the equivalent of a Brady-sized bucket of K’fuck off my arse.

At least I HAVE the damned bathers. I can starve myself over the next fortnight, right?
Eating nothing but cucumber and parsley will be fun.

But I had barely recovered from the trauma of looking for togs when it was haircut time. (Rocking, drooling, whiny-noises etc.) My old hairdresser was a lovely bloke. Actually, he still is a lovely bloke. The only problem is that he sold his salon so he could sell home loans instead of haircuts. More importantly, he sold his salon to a chick who painted the whole fucking place hot pink, turned it into a “style lounge” and hung dippy chandeliers in the windows.

I cannot walk into this place without feeling like a girly idiot. I am so girly.

I coped for a few months, since Old Owner came in on Saturday mornings. The final straw came on the day when I went in to see Old Owner and had my hair washed by a 12-year-old Paris-clone. It was Wrong.

Me: “So, are you Girly-Pink-Dimwit's sister?”
Scrawny Hair Washer: “Everyone asks me that! No, I’m not. I totally wish I was, though! That would be, like, so hot!”
Me: “Er, that’s “I totally wish I were”, not “I totally wish I was”. So, why are you washing my hair?”
HW: “I totally want to be a hairdresser when I finish school! That would be so, like, totally hot!”
Me: “Erm, hm, plenty of time for that sort of thing, eh, yeah? Since you’re 12, yeah? You know, I did actually wash my hair before I arrived here… (Please! Please! Stop massaging my scalp! You’re 12! It feels like child exploitation!)”

However, I’m nothing if not a lazy cow so I put off finding another haircutter. I’ve let myself go for a few weeks. In fact, until this morning, my hair looked like an otter that had had sex with a coir doormat. Rough sex.

Sigh. Would that I still looked like an untrimmed doormat/otter hybrid.

Since I couldn’t get a haircut with Old Owner, I decided to try Place Across The Road. Mistake. Bi-i-i-g-g mistake.

I ended up with Rhianna (Who the hell is called Rhianna? I mean, really?! Rhiannon is bad enough, but Rhianna? That’s so SBG that it’s not funny!). Needless to say, Rhianna was wearing a dress and leggings. She was also about 15 and weighed four stone. I took one look at her and thought, “Ooooh, this can’t be good.”

By the time Rhianna had finished with me, I looked like my hair had been cut with a broken beer bottle. Or possibly with a knife and fork. I even had to remove a few chunks over my left ear with the nail scissors, for Ford’s sake.

I guess all I need to have happen now is for my underwear drawer to catch fire. I just bought me some new dacks yesterday, so I guess that would be the final straw. Or the toilet to back up. Again. Come on, bring it on, bitches! I’m ready!

Edit: Actually, the pants haircut was the third crap thing to happen. I forgot that the tumble dryer already turned to putty, curse it. Hmmph. Now I'm going to have to get one of those Today Tonight-unapproved repairmen...

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20 Comments:

At 2:20 am, January 20, 2007, Blogger Peter said...

m guessing the Jennifer Hawkins and Megan Gales of this world LOVE buying swim wear.

 
At 10:29 am, January 20, 2007, Blogger PetStarr said...

With you on the swimwear thing, cappy. I have staunchly refused to do anything even remotely involving swimming this summer, despite the fact that every day has been an average of 5 million degrees, simply to avoid scaring small children with my ginormous arse. I wouldn't even DARE to try and shop for bathers right now, as I fear the inevitable depression it would inspire would probably drive me to acquiring a nasty drug habit and being committed to one of those nice places with the spongey walls.

But the haircut can't be ALL bad.

 
At 12:07 pm, January 20, 2007, Blogger Steph said...

Baahahaha! You crack me up! Listen, nobody, not even 12 year old anorexic bints look good trying on swimwear. It's those infernal lights!! Gah! Horrid!

You need to find a good hairdresser, that is so like, TOTALLY important!!
Don't trust your tresses to just anybody!! Insane!

 
At 2:25 pm, January 20, 2007, Blogger DelightfulJen said...

I own a fair few togs, but I'd never be game to wear any of them in public. Heaven knows why I buy them, maybe incase one day I wake up tanned and skinny I'll have lots of choice as for what togs to run around in.

"I looked like my hair had been cut with a broken beer bottle. Or possibly with a knife and fork." That is hysterical, I've had those sorts of haircuts before and you've described it so perfectly!! Good luck with the haidresser quest :)

 
At 3:24 pm, January 20, 2007, Blogger redcap said...

Peter, I'm afraid we don't care what Megan or Jennifer love. They aren't real women ;)

Pet, believe me, I wouldn't have done it if I didn't have to. And the one thing I can say for the haircut is that it was cheap. But I guess that goes without saying, eh?

Steph, I have a theory that they tilt fitting room mirrors forwards so that everyone looks like a lumpy dwarf. I don't know that you could call my hair tresses - I don't have a hell of a lot of it. You'd think that anyone could cut it when it's this short! Maybe I should try a guys' barber instead...

D'Jen, thanks! I'll need a lot of luck to find a good one. Perhaps you can always wear your togs around the house on hot days?

 
At 4:35 pm, January 20, 2007, Blogger jedimerc said...

I have no real relateable experience on the swimwear issue; however, last time in Sydney, I was talked into a free haircut by one of the folks in the hostel (and I had let my hair grow for the prior 3 months in country). Wasn't exactly a haircut? The only time I had been that close to being bald was as a newborn...

Have a great trip, though.

 
At 6:33 pm, January 20, 2007, Blogger Scorpy said...

90 seconds from the beach...I envy you but then again I remember what Adelaide beaches were like - not much actually LOL
I love the beach and get there every moment I can :
As for a 'hairdresser' anyone with scissors will do :)(as long as they are licensed)
BTW Great story, as always

 
At 3:24 pm, January 21, 2007, Blogger meva said...

I once read that Elle Macpherson tried not to wear anything too tiny when she went to the beach so that she wouldn't make all the other girls feel bad. What a saint. *vomits*

 
At 3:34 pm, January 21, 2007, Blogger redcap said...

Jedi, you're lucky! Guys just go and buy a pair of boardies and that's that. I would have gone the boardie thing too, but I think I'd be mistaken for a bloke.

Scorpy, awww, Adelaide beaches are all right. They're not much use if you want to surf, but I don't. That would involve being underwater. Our beach is pretty, anyway.

Meva, can you pass that bucket when you're done with it? ;)

 
At 5:00 pm, January 21, 2007, Blogger Ariel said...

Mmm, swimwear shopping. I empathise. Boardies with tankini are a good cover-up option that don't make one look like a boy.

I confess, I love swimming and I love Adealide beaches, but there you go. I'm from Melbourne. Our beaches suck.

Love the hairdressing anecdote. If only you could find a hairdressers with decent music, good coffee, good reading material and hairdressers that don't talk, so you can bury yourself in reading material without feeling you should be making chit-chat. Oh, and the ability to give a good haircut, too ...

 
At 6:44 pm, January 21, 2007, Blogger redcap said...

Ariel, I looked for a suitable tankini to go with boardies, but it wasn't happening. Le sigh. At least the top is tankini and the bottom is shorts-ish...

But re the hairdresser, I wouldn't care a bit if the coffee was crap (don't drink it), the hairdresser talked non-stop (I can cope), there was no reading material and the music was Spice Girls and Pussycat Dolls all the way. All I need from a hairdresser is a haircut that doesn't look like it was done by a drunk wielding a chainsaw. IS THAT SO MUCH TO AAAASSK?! ~Sniff~

 
At 3:22 pm, January 22, 2007, Blogger killerrabbit said...

I really want Mr KR's haircutter cause they listen to cool retro rock and get a free Coopers when they get a haircut. But it is the last bastion of maledom in barbers.

I have a good hairdresser but I suppose Melbourne is a little too far for you to come for a haircut.

 
At 3:33 pm, January 22, 2007, Blogger Sloth said...

Men should be shy at the beach. I myself dislike the beach because I don't want the tats and gut to frighten children. But when the mercury hits 40 and your house has no air con, the words fuck it come into use.
Should really swim in a shirt.

 
At 4:26 pm, January 22, 2007, Anonymous audrey said...

Hey red, book in to see Olly at Gritti Palace. You'll pay around $90 but the man is a genius. I'll give you the number on wednesday.

As for bathers, don't get me started. Why o why didn't the retro fashion remake obsession extend to good old hip covering, flattering bathers with modesty skirts?

 
At 5:24 pm, January 22, 2007, Blogger Ms Smack said...

i'm so sorry! LOL but such a funny entry.

Go to Clipjoint in Gawler Place. Although they're students, they're all supervised by a couple of trained professionals. They're not allowed to do anything without having express permission. I went there recently. Sam cut the simple length, the qualified girl cut the layers in my hair while the students stood around and watched. The teacher explained the angle of her fingers, the texture of the hair, the type of part she'd done, the angle of the scissors. It was completely professional. Wash, cut, blowdry = $13.90.

i'm not alone. I've recommended all my friends go there and they're ALL happy with their hair.

 
At 7:52 pm, January 22, 2007, Blogger ilse said...

Yeah-- I've been looking for a new bikini for the last three months. Just can't do it.

If you want a decent hairdresser, Pipsqueek in Saigon on cnr of Payneham and Magill Rds is pretty good.

 
At 8:51 pm, January 22, 2007, Blogger redcap said...

KR, well, yes probably a little far...

Sloth, it's the whole tree-in-the-forest thing: if you are at home in your shorts and no-one is there to be offended, does it matter? ;)

Audrey, holy hell! I'm sure he is a genius, but for $90 I want him to give me a massage and cook me dinner as well! That's one of those shitty little inequalities that really gets my goat - forcing women to pay that much for a haircut while a guy will get virtually the same deal for $20. Hrmph. Bathers are the bloody same - I had to pay $120 when a pair of guy's boardies cost $30. If they'd been neck to knee, then I would have seen the value!

Ms S, hmm, now there's one to think about. I suppose the only downside is feeling like a partially-dissected biology class frog, but for good hair at Tightarse Tuesday prices...

Ilse, you've noticed the dental floss and lolly wrapper phenomenon too, then. My sympathies.

 
At 11:04 pm, January 22, 2007, Blogger meva said...

I've just remembered (as I think I'd suppressed the horror)! I once had 3 haircuts in 1 week. First haircut, I walked into work the next morning and everyone started singing Can the Can. Yes, I was doing the Suzi Quatro Devilgate Drive mullet from hell.

So I went to another hairdresser, who just gave me a shorter mullet.

So, I finally went to a recommended hairdresser and for $120 (and this was several years ago!) I got a very short, but decently fashionable and flattering cut. Although, this hairdresser was notorious for wanting his clients topless, so that he could get an idea of what the fall of hair would look like on them. Yeah, right! I declined.

 
At 11:11 pm, January 22, 2007, Blogger redcap said...

Meva, you win. Crikey. I think after the second one I would have just given up and worn a hat!

 
At 8:03 pm, February 09, 2009, Blogger kolin said...

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