Hairstyles For Middle Age Women
Lockdown has shown us what is really important in life and the first thing most women have said to me during this time is ‘Just look at my roots!’ We can cope with Gel-free nails and furry legs but middle age women cannot cope without a decent hairstyle.
I have spent a lot of time studying female newsreaders and presenters over the past few months, and there has either been a lot of illegal hairdressing going on, or they are all married to top hair stylists.
Yesterday was the best day of 2020 so far, and let’s face it there haven’t been many reasons to celebrate this year. Yesterday was HAIRDRESSER DAY. I don’t normally get out of bed before 10.00am on a Sunday if I can help it but, the thought of getting my lockdown roots eradicated, meant I was up and dressed by 9.00am.
Toni & Guy Day
Minutes later I was literally running down the high street to see two of the most important men in my life, David and Tyler at Toni & Guy, East Grinstead. Admittedly I was a bit shocked to see that they had ditched the usual skinny jeans and tight T shirts for attire usually worn by those carrying out a post-mortem, and we couldn’t have the usual hugs and kisses. I was also slightly thrown by the welcome pack of a face mask, disposable towel and a paper cup. I had hoped it was a few freebie hair product samples.
Once I had donned my plastic apron I sat down waiting for a nice coffee and a biscuit, only to be told there was NO coffee. Who goes to the hairdressers without having a coffee? This was too much for me to cope with, so once Tyler had applied the grey-eradicating tint, I sprinted up the high street to Gregg’s to order a takeaway Cappuccino.
It was fine when I first went into the bakery, but by the time I had got my order there was a well-spaced queue of folks staring at me in plastic apron with hair dripping with peroxide. Not only that, the smell of the chemicals had totally polluted the shop, and I had to apologise profusely that their sausage roll sales would be down that day.
Back in Toni & Guy with cappuccino in hand, I settled down to a good 30 minutes on Instagram while my hair dye worked its magic. Experience has taught me that it is wise to stare at my phone or read a magazine at this stage. Otherwise I look in the vast mirror for way too long, counting every Bloody wrinkle. I then feel like topping myself before I even get to the washbasins.
My hair has got ridiculously long since my last cut in February. I am well aware that women over a certain age should only have a Midlife Bob as I have Googled ‘Hair styles for middle age women’ but I am not there yet. I am still trying to convince myself, and everyone else, that I will be having a 50th Birthday party sometime in the future.
The lovely David then gave me a good trim and I watched ancient frizz and split ends cascading to the floor. A beautiful blowdry later, and I was ready to face the world feeling a million dollars. It was just a shame that I was only going home to clear out the garden shed and sort the washing out. I was ready for ‘Lights Camera, Action’ or at the very least a day of shoe shopping and a light lunch.
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Blogs On Women
I have thoroughly enjoyed writing my blogs on women, or should I say me, over the past few months. Nice to see I have a few readers, so I have decided to continue for a while!
2 Metre Rule
Ok, so we are coming out of lockdown after 12 weeks of baking and gardening and we are all venturing out into the ‘New Normal.’ The problem is, I haven’t got the foggiest idea what that is. I did, but then Boris changed it.
I have just about mastered the shaking hands with my elbows and waving like a toddler when I see my best mate, but it is all the other rules I am struggling with. The ‘2-metre rule’ is now a ‘2-metre or 1-metre plus rule’, when we can’t do a ‘2-metre rule.’
So, in a supermarket if someone is browsing the Pinot Grigio do I squeeze past at 1.2 metres, or do I turn and approach the wine aisle from a different direction? Would I get verbal abuse from a 1.2 metre squeeze-by, or is that acceptable?
It appears that some folks have already just given up with the whole shebang and gone back to ’30 cm everywhere’ whereas others are adopting a ‘3-metre plus’ rule. The thing is you don’t know who you are up against, meaning any trip beyond the front door is fraught with dilemmas on social etiquette.
If I was in any business at the moment, I would run a sticky label and poster factory. Everywhere you go, floors are dotted with plastic footprints, like steppingstones. I bet these factories are delighted now the ‘1-metre plus’ rule is in. This means a whole re-print of millions of ‘2-metre’ posters of 2 stick men with a line between them. When this COVID nightmare is over will we see ‘Hugging Allowed’ posters everywhere?
Masking A Flush
Not only that, there is the whole face mask issue. I have worn one a few times for work, and they are so damn hot! You do not need a menopausal hot flush and a face mask at the same time, you will literally be dripping from your untouched grey roots downwards. Also, it is impossible to read people’s expressions in a face mask. Are they smiling at you because you held the door for them, or are they Bloody furious you touched the door handle in the first place?
Face masks are not only stifling, but they are hideous. They really do put a downer on any outfit. I have looked, and neither Gucci nor Ralph Lauren haven’t started making them yet, shame. If this is going on for a while, should we try and match them to outfits? I will of course need a leopard print one first.
The good thing is you don’t need lipstick with a face mask. I was looking at the lipsticks in the supermarket the other day and realised that the testers have been removed. Who is going to buy a lipstick without a quick squiggle on the back of the hand? We all know that what looks ‘Tantalising Terracotta’ can easily be ‘Pukey Peach’ on the flesh. I used to love decorating the back of my hand with Zebra lipstick tester stripes. I could always tell which the best quality one was. I still had a faint stripe of it 6 hours later, and after a shower.
Sad is the day when choosing facemasks has replaced choosing lipsticks. The thing with lipsticks, and handbags, is that they always fit. I guess facemasks do as well, but they don’t make a woman feel fab.
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As a child I actually loathed cheese, of any description. When I was growing up, all those years ago, you came home, had your meat and two veg and a slice of apple pie, if you were lucky, and that was it. Food intolerances and allergies hadn’t been invented then.
One day at school I was given a particularly large slice of hideous soggy cheese pie, which I refused to eat. By the time lunch was technically over, I was a solitary child at the dining table, with the demonic headmistress glaring at me and repeatedly saying ‘Jayne, you will finish that, we don’t waste food here.’
Lockdown life has given me more than enough time to tackle the big issue in my life, namely why is my face getting so wrinkly? Ok, I am nearly 55, so I have to accept the odd crease, but having spent hours, and I mean hours, studying the complexions of every woman in her fifties who posts on Instagram, I have come to the conclusion my crevices are pretty deep.
It was not until last year that I actually realised that I had any wrinkles at all. My eyesight got so bad that I could not apply mascara without wearing my glasses. Having poked my eye out too many times with the mascara wand I decided to invest in a large magnifying mirror. Big mistake, in one quick glance I had aged 30 years. In fact, the sight was so depressing that I keep the mirror draped with a face cloth when I am not using it.
If Coronavirus had struck 30 years ago it would have found a very different world from the one today. I was in my mid 20s then, mobile phones were the size of bricks and computers were the size of packing cases. I remember getting my first mobile phone, a huge Motorola with a short rubber aerial, and I thought it was the coolest things since eyelash curlers. Admittedly it weighed about 2 kg, and needed its own backpack, but it was a MOBILE phone! I had a sales job, and I remember strutting around with my Filofax in one hand and giant Motorola in the other, wearing jackets with shoulder pads on steroids.
Over the past few years Britain has become obsessed with baking. However, this has come at a time when I thought my baking days were over. When the kids were young, I spent hours if not days, making novelty birthday cakes. In my cake career I made horses, dogs, footballs, dinosaurs, Telly Tubbies, lawnmowers (that year was a challenge) to name but a few. Whilst the end results were ok it took me a further two days to scrape the fondant icing off every kitchen surface and get the food colouring off my nails. In my kids’ school nipping into Tesco‘s and buying a cartoon cake was not an option.