Notice the Haircut. Infamously Me and Milly don't like Brushing our hair. Infamously Milly once kicked a hairdresser so hard in the shin she almost made the women cry. Milly still hates having her head/ face/ hair touched. It is the one thing that defined a good carer - whether or not they attempted dealing with her hair. I remember she used to kick and scream and it used to take 3 people to hold her while she had her haircut. I think she bust my mums lip once when she punched out while having her hair brushed. Later her school support workers (plural) used to take her and feed her Jelly babies while she went for her Bi- annual haircut. It was a massive deal. I am very guilty of dreadlocks from not brushing my hair. Still to this day but by gosh did Milly have dreadlocks.
Paticularily one of the lies we used to tell her was that we would have to cut all her hair off so she would look like a Boy. Too Milly this was no issue and on a few occasions voluntary did this herself anyway. Actually she did it most times she got hold of a pair of scissors.
The next event has scarred me for life and I am far too damaged to post photo evidence of this event.
It was the summer holiday before I started secondary school. Two weeks before secondary school. For most this is a nervous and apprehensive time . Everything is changing and all you want to do is fit in. I have, for all my life, been a Tomboy. I blame my mum, she dressed us practically and I always preferred my Doc Martens over a dress. So much so that the length of my hair was the only defining feature of my pre pubescent sexuality.
So it was in the dead of night that the Sweeney Todd of Halifax way struck with a pair of kitchen scissors. My hair went from mid back length to Justin Beiber- In seconds. I didnt know until I woke up in the morning, literally spitting hair. The Sadistic girl had given herself a trim as well but she hadnt pulled a Beiber on herself. I dare say I sported the Beiber haircut before Justin himself. She hadn't done a bad Job. I had to go to the hairdressers for an emergency clean up but all in all, looking back, I was the spit of Justin Beiber- just with worse teeth and a thick northern accent. No in fact that is a complete lie. I was the spit of Marcus from the Film ' About a Boy'
The reason this was so painful is because they had run out of Jumpers for when I started 'Big School' Mum also dressed me in some Unisex Reebok rain coat from JJb's and an Asymetrical velcro bright yellow rucksack with Doc Martens. I shall stop here its just too painful. One of my most painful memories to date is pin our first week when our History Teacher sat us boy girl boy girl and he sat me next to a Girl.
The hair grew out by the end of yr 7 and I persuaded Mum to buy me a coat from New Look instead.
Killing me softly.
No comments:
Post a Comment