Lockdown Life – A Terrible Beauty

03£$%”$*(&/R;p08… Oops, sorry… my hair is in my eyes. My eyebrow hair that is. Reports of a yeti roaming the roads of Mayobridge are “fake news”. That’s just me, looking windswept as I walk the dogs.

 

This lack of hairdressers and beauticians is no joke. We are locked up with people who are starting to look like strangers, slowly changing from the beautifully-coiffured sleek beings we met into bad guys from Pixar movies. Unless the grey streak down the middle of our heads actually becomes trendy, we are facing a true crisis – the skunk look on the Paris catwalks next year maybe? I don’t think so. Beards have been fashionable for a while but until now really only for men.

 

I have tried recreating that salon experience at home. I put on a face-mask and scared the cat. I painted my nails, only for my fingers to look like I had developed a strange blood circulation problem. I lit candles and played whale music but I just got a headache and the dog started to howl.

 

My over-developed eyebrows make me look quizzical all the time. It’s May yet I took to wearing a hat. All the time. I started to watch videos on how to cut your own hair and tentatively snipped at the ends of my forlorn locks but chickened out. At one point, I eyed up the dog clippers and thought about just shaving off the whole lot but I just now I would look less Sinead O’Connor and more Mr Potato Head. My poor mother, at the age of 88, is thinking of putting her hair into ponytails.

 

However, I did come up with a plan that involved two boxes of hair dye and so on my last work Zoom meeting, I was introduced as Bronagh in the blue hoodie and purple hair. Hey, I’m a student. I can get away with these things and let’s face it, if not now, when?

 

All I can say is that the hairdressers and beauticians better open way before the pubs and cafes so the professionals can fix up what we’ve done to ourselves before anyone sees us.

 

Bronagh McAtasney – no, I did not pay to look like this.