Crazy hair, no one care!

What the hell is it about having a new hair cut/ new shoes/ flashy clothes, etc, that simultaneously delight and mortify us? Why, when we know we look good, are we then so embarrassed to show our new self to the world? Crucially, why do we still act like this in the 5th decade of our existence, when we know damn well that nobody care?

My example today is my hair. Firstly, it's very different (as far as I'm concerned) to my usual lank and shambolic wind-swept shag. Secondly, it's a perm. 
Now, I must have missed the memo that said perm's had been relegated to the past, along with having to get up at 1:30am to watch wrestling, because your TV couldn't record it, and public information films designed to put the fear of god into children regarding electricity pylons and open water (not open water!) As far as I was concerned, it was as normal as the last time I had one, though admittedly that was in whatever we refer to the 2000-2009 decade as. 

I was vaguely aware of Emma Stone having one done, and if it's good enough for her, then... I politely asked a friend - trained hairdresser, who refuses to dress hair as it's 'too stressful' - how I would get a mermaid wave, rather than an old-lady curl. See, I was trying to make it sound like I knew what I was talking about, and I really did. Hadn't I scoured Google/ Pinterest/ Instagram for tips and inspiration? Her response was surprising. She practically recoiled backwards through her kitchen wall at the mention of the P word. It was as though I had asked her the best way to dispose of 17 bodies currently hidden in my attic. Not that I have 17 bodies hidden in my attic. I can't get up there. Anyway, she acted as though it was no longer a thing that any sane person did. 

Fine, I thought, she doesn't like hairdressing and is probably just trying to ensure I don't enlist her for help. I'll go buy a perm from the many shops that stocked them all those years ago. Long story short, where the fudge have they gone??? Tracked one down with a very unpromising photo on the cover of a horrified looking lady standing in front of an oxblood red wall. No problem, it's all in the winding, isn't it? Had to order the curlers from Amazon, and they came with a free afro comb (!) and a wonderfully bad-English instruction sheet and thank you slip - printed with the legend: 'Than gyou'. So that filled me with confidence.

Regardless, perm was done with relatively little confusion (barring a 2 hour heated debate with my mother as to how to wind the curlers to make me look like a mermaid (I really do believe I will look like different people with a perm. First time, I thought I would look like gorgeous Rose Byrne, in Troy. Nope. Second, even more ridiculously, I thought I would look like renowned curly-girl (!) Taylor Swift. Because having a perm would Benjamin Button me by 12 years, wouldn't it? So, mermaid really wasn't that far-fetched.)), and I really like the result. 

That's not to say I wasn't cacking myself at the prospect of the first school-run with my new doo. Not that ANYONE noticed! Really? That shouldn't have been a surprise though, should it?

We all torture ourselves over what others will think of us. How short/ tall/ fat/ skinny/ pale/ dark/ hairy/ bald/ add your hang-up of choice here---. But the reality is that other than a few perfect arseholes, everyone else is far too busy worrying about what others are thinking of them to care. We are all obsessed with our flaws and weaknesses, ignoring the obvious paradox to this obsession. EVERYONE IS THE SAME, EVEN THE GORGOUS AND PERFECT PEOPLE WE WANT TO LOOK LIKE. Sorry for the capitals, but it's crucial we remember this the next time we blush beetroot at having to strip off on the beach or in the Doctor's consultation room. We are all, to quote the great Marge Simpson, 

                            'As vulnerable and beautiful as any of God's creatures.' 

And we are all far too busy worrying about ourselves to notice your new shoes, large necklace, or Medusa inspired hair (she was a mermaid, right?)