Hairstories

hairstoriesIt’s been seven months since my last haircut. Unlike many women I know, getting my haircut has always been something I’ve put off doing until I absolutely can’t bear the breakage all over my house and  the 30 minutes of rigorous detangling after every shower. I’ve always been jealous of my friends and colleagues who would get excited about an upcoming hair appointment because I’ve always dreaded mine.

The old adage that your hair always looks the best right after a trip to the salon has NEVER applied to me. You see, I have special hair that only I can style without looking like a complete wreck. It’s wavy and fine, but I have SO MUCH OF IT.

I remember one of my stylists spending hours trying to get the frizz out of my hair. She blew it dry and then put it in Velcro rollers and I had to sit under one of those stand up driers for what seemed like forever. I still ended up leaving the salon with it pulled back into a tight bun.

Before I moved to Switzerland, I started getting my haircut at a salon just a few yards from my home. It was cheap and cheerful and I could just have them take the damp off with a blow drier before scampering quickly home and finishing the job myself.

It’s not just the issue of “styling my hair” though, I also loath having to sit in front of a large mirror and look at myself under the hideously unflattering lights. Sometimes, to avoid this, I’ll wear glasses instead of contacts to my appointment and take them off during the cut and be happily blind (a genius solution I think).

BUT! The worst thing about getting my haircut is all of the unsolicited comments I get from various stylists that are super duper annoying and just downright rude sometimes. Here’s a quick collection of the greatest hits:

  • many different variations of, “your hair is very damaged.”

Or..

  • “I can’t believe how healthy your damaged hair looks when YOU style it”
  • after completing my highlights and cut, “I was going to refuse to put in the highlights because your hair is so damaged and brittle, but it actually turned out okay.”
  • always after washing my hair, “oh, your hair is actually curly. Do you ever wear it naturally? You should wear it curly.”
  • “You should really try to cut down on straightening your hair.”

And my favourite of all times…

  • after asking which way I part my hair: “good, that will help balance out your crooked nose.”

I’m heading to London in a month and I have an appointment booked. I would do it here, but it’s my hair and I don’t want anything to get “lost in translation”, I have too many issues with getting my hair cut already.

I’ve been hemming and hawing between getting a trim or going a bit more extreme and getting 8+ inches cut off for a completely new look. Hmm…decisions, decisions.

What about you, do you love or loath getting your haircut?

xx BHF

 

 

 

Promises, promises…

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Martin and I are heading to Spain for a week in the morning and I kind of feel like the pug pictured above about it (minus the protruding tongue because that would be mildly disturbing).

For the past month or so my life has consisted of going to the gym, cooking/preparing food, doing laundry and stretching daily with a final goal of being able to comfortably do the splits (why? Why not, I say!).  Needless to say, this daily routine hasn’t provided much inspiration for writing. I do have every intention to return to posting consistently when I get back from holiday, though.

Oh, and if you were wondering, the UTI put up a good, two week long, fight. I am cautiously declaring victory because I really don’t want that bitch to come with me on holiday.

Besos!

xxx BHF

 

Laundry Ninja

laundryThere are ten apartments in our building and we all share one (ONE!) washing machine. There’s a calendar that you can sign up to for your laundry time, but I’ve recently been doing my laundry on Monday morning, as no one else seemed to block out this time. Monday is also my cleaning day, so it’s nice to get all of the tedious tasks done at the same time. This shared laundry situation, along with not having a dish washer anymore, are a couple things that have made this move completely unbearable less pleasant at times.

This morning I went down with a load of darks and someone else’s finished load was sitting in the machine. I briefly looked at the calendar and didn’t see it blocked out for the morning, so I removed the clothes and put them in the empty basket next to the machine. For the record, I rarely do this. But I’ve been doing my laundry on Monday morning for months now and that load was totally messing up my Monday morning routine.

I put my clothes in with detergent and fabric softener, set the machine to 30 degrees, economy cycle, debited my laundry card and shut the door. I usually do 2-3 loads on Monday, so I looked at the calendar again to block it out and realised that I was looking at the wrong day and someone had actually blocked it out for the entire day today.

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit! I am an asshole.

I panicked for a second and then realised that there was only one thing to do in this situation: employ my ninja skills.

I’ve set my timer to the exact time it will take the load to finish (actually 20 second before) and I’ve mentally prepared myself to fill my basket as quickly and quietly as possible, without being seen. I’m actually visualising this, like athletes do before a race. There is no room for error because I hate awkward situations and I don’t want to be known as the rude “American” in the building.

There are 16 minutes left on my timer, so I’m going to do some stretching. I’ll let you know how it goes…

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Freckle Face

freckle2I’ve always had freckles. On my face, my shoulders, my forearms and knees. They fade in the cooler months, when the sun doesn’t shine as much or as often, but as soon as spring hits and I spend a couple hours out in the sun they return. The first sign that summer is soon approaching.

I’ve never had an issue with them. I remember a couple times with previous boyfriends being amused at how shocked they were with the transformation. I guess I always started relationships in the winter, fall or early spring.

This morning ITV featured a news story about a clinic in Cardiff that is offering a new laser treatment to remove freckles. Remove freckles? Whaaaat? Seriously? Why is this a thing now? It makes me so sad and angry that this exists. That freckles are now being classified as undesirable and in need of treatment, like unwanted facial hair or acne. I know not everyone likes them, but come on?!

It takes me back to when I was on the beach in Thailand and a middle-aged Thai woman came up to me and told me in her broken English that she had some cream that would clear up my face. I was shocked, annoyed and amused at the same time. I tried to explain that this was my face. The face I was born with and I was pretty sure that her cream would not “fix” it.

I, for one, will not get this treatment done…not ever. My freckles are me. They were passed down to me from my dad and I wear them proudly on my face which I got from my mom.

freckle

What do you think? Is this clinic taking the concept of perfection a step too far? Or just giving people “afflicted” with freckles a way out?

xx BHF

The ugly truth about my fabulous new life.

I feel like I’ve misled you a little. I’ve not shown you an accurate portrayal of my day to day life here in Switzerland and I’m feeling somewhat guilty about this. I post pictures of mountains, and cows, and rambling rivers, and flowers, and beer bottles that I’ve painted gold (or pink). But I never post the ugly bits, the annoying bits, the bits that might make you think twice before shoving all of your worldly belongings into a garage and moving to the country of chocolate and cheese and trains that run on time. Yeah, I guess I did post, way back when, about our blocked toilet issue, but since then I’ve kept it clean and pretty.

I’ve recently come across something disturbing which has made me Google “cockroaches in Switzerland” several times yesterday and today. I found one bug under my laundry hamper and another in the elevator…most likely coming up to our floor to join the cockroach party. I don’t have any previous experience with cockroaches, but I do know that I really don’t want to deal with an infestation. I’ve survived a bed bug infestation so cockroaches can’t be that bad, can they? Plus, cockroaches don’t bite, right? I’m getting the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it. I’m going to keep my eyes open for any other signs of bug activity. And try to remember not to step on them because apparently that just spreads their eggs around if it’s a female. Ew. So gross and so not fabulous.

I have no pretty picture to accompany this post. #sorrynotsorry

xx BHF