Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

New year, new me, blah blah blah, whatever.

I'm not a believer of new years resolutions, nor dry January.

I like wine, most foods that are bad for you, and my favourite past time is sitting down.

However, at the tail end of a particularly heavy New Years Eve bender, I found myself waking up on Tuesday feeling particularly gross.

For the last three years I've tortuously been growing my hair.

Following a stint of continuous bleaching in late 2013, to early 2014, my hair was well and truly fucked. At that time pastel hair was in. I couldn't afford the salon, but wanted to have dream like lilac hair. And then I wanted it pink. And then blue.

I soon realised this shit had to stop. Clumps of hair were falling out of my head. I had to back comb it to fake an appearance of volume. I always wore hats. Not even hair extensions covered the irreversible damage I had done. It was pretty emotional.

I've always experimented with my hair colour from a young age, but this was a step to far. I dyed my barnet a natural brown with a semi-permenant henna colorant, and thus began the process of restoring my hair back to a once previous healthy state. As there wasn't much of my hair to cut, I left out this option. Hair masks, expensive conditioners, and exotic oils became old reliables to maintain my disastrous split ends.

Knowing my hairdresser pal was in Wales until next week, I woke up on Tuesday determined to get the chop. My hair finally reached past my boobs, and after recent observations by friends of how long it was, I knew I had finally reached a stage that I was comfortable to get rid of all my dead hair.

My, slightly wet, hair the week before I cut it

You know when you get a slightly out of the blue idea that you just need to do? Queue Patrice acting on a whim, sort of. Teeth brushed and dungarees on, I went to the nearest hairdressers that had an appointment available -  Beauty Works Hair & Blow Dry Bar. The shop front is no wider than the front of a car, a hidden Crouch End gem.

One hour post impromptu hair cut

With graduation coming up this summer, I want my locks, luscious. I want the damn sun bouncing off my hair in pictures. Until then, it's regular trims, weekly coconut oil sessions and plenty of heat protection spray. Finsbury Parks sassiest Hairdresser, Jade from Hard Az Nailz, recommends a budget friendly Schwarzkopf Guardian Angel, which I bought for £2.99 at Paks Stroud Green.

On the left, Primarks seaweed and sea salt spray heat protection spray which smells divine, and Schwartzfof's Guardian Angel

It is now at this point that I must express my own views entirely, kids, just don't bleach your hair yourselves. Go to the fucking salon if you are transitioning from a dark brunette to an icey blonde. Trust me, baldness in not a good look huns.