The simple life
Feelings need to be shared regarding my experiences of the weekend. Every other week (ish) I nip home to the Shire and visit my parents, something I thank Leeds-living for (was a tad more difficult from the North-East). Along with such visits comes counless home comforts, including being welcomed by the cats (Dave, I do miss you); having Dad cook me a huge breakfast on Sundays; watching crap Saturday night TV (as if I actually tuned in to the Eurovision British entry vote, the celebrity ice-dancing final AND "Just the Two of Us" - tell no-one!); not to mention the much-loved satellite delay when speaking to my parents. Everything just slows down on these weekends.
Well, at this particular weekend of pampering and relaxation I decided to treat myself to an afternoon in the salon, and get a new "do". Nice. However this is a rare occurrence (despite the 6-monthly dramatic changes of hair colour - they're usually a home effort). I tend to amaze hairdressers at the awful condition of my wig, and feel generally like a lazy slob for not tanning myself to shades of tangerine, immaculately grooming myself or shaping nails. I was handed 7 (yes 7) copies of Hello magazine which, after perusing the front cover, I simply could not open. I know it's trash. And that's OK on occasion, but this was too much. I don't give a fuck about Chantelle. Somehow nestled in between was a Times supplement so I gratefully busied myself with that. Anyway, I was seen by 5 different girls and one young man over the course of my 3 hour treatment, and every single one of them asked, "you going out tonight?". Perhaps a fair question. Perhaps it's the replacement to typical hairdressing holiday enquiries (these visits are now so few and far between that I'm not really up with the lingo). So, in addition to feeling like a general beast compared to these super trendy sticks flitting about me, I also now feel totally past it - for at least 2 reasons. 1) I rarely "go out" anymore. What's the need when there's ice dancing on telly? And 2), (let's set the scene) I was in Lincoln. Lincoln. Once again, Lincoln. I know it has a University now, but it hasn't changed that much since my leaving it. It's as shit as ever. Where oh where do these dolled up beauties go? One chatted about her knowledge of Leeds, and how she was planning an big night out there soon so she could check out the new Oceana club. So, these girls spend £70 billion a year on tarting themselves up then go out on the Brayford in Lincoln then treat themselves to a night at Rock City (Nottingham, for you non-locals) or Oceana every now and then. I can't think of anything worse.
In conclusion, after an unnecessarily long rant, it seems that despite being made to feel hideous and old (had to buy anti-wrinkle stuff for eyes yesterday), I am generally content with not battling to go out to Bar Med every Saturday night. Although maybe I should keep options open - perhaps I could find my own fashion designer studying at Lincoln College of Beauty... Fingers crossed.
Moon (AKA the snob). xxx
Well, at this particular weekend of pampering and relaxation I decided to treat myself to an afternoon in the salon, and get a new "do". Nice. However this is a rare occurrence (despite the 6-monthly dramatic changes of hair colour - they're usually a home effort). I tend to amaze hairdressers at the awful condition of my wig, and feel generally like a lazy slob for not tanning myself to shades of tangerine, immaculately grooming myself or shaping nails. I was handed 7 (yes 7) copies of Hello magazine which, after perusing the front cover, I simply could not open. I know it's trash. And that's OK on occasion, but this was too much. I don't give a fuck about Chantelle. Somehow nestled in between was a Times supplement so I gratefully busied myself with that. Anyway, I was seen by 5 different girls and one young man over the course of my 3 hour treatment, and every single one of them asked, "you going out tonight?". Perhaps a fair question. Perhaps it's the replacement to typical hairdressing holiday enquiries (these visits are now so few and far between that I'm not really up with the lingo). So, in addition to feeling like a general beast compared to these super trendy sticks flitting about me, I also now feel totally past it - for at least 2 reasons. 1) I rarely "go out" anymore. What's the need when there's ice dancing on telly? And 2), (let's set the scene) I was in Lincoln. Lincoln. Once again, Lincoln. I know it has a University now, but it hasn't changed that much since my leaving it. It's as shit as ever. Where oh where do these dolled up beauties go? One chatted about her knowledge of Leeds, and how she was planning an big night out there soon so she could check out the new Oceana club. So, these girls spend £70 billion a year on tarting themselves up then go out on the Brayford in Lincoln then treat themselves to a night at Rock City (Nottingham, for you non-locals) or Oceana every now and then. I can't think of anything worse.
In conclusion, after an unnecessarily long rant, it seems that despite being made to feel hideous and old (had to buy anti-wrinkle stuff for eyes yesterday), I am generally content with not battling to go out to Bar Med every Saturday night. Although maybe I should keep options open - perhaps I could find my own fashion designer studying at Lincoln College of Beauty... Fingers crossed.
Moon (AKA the snob). xxx
posted by Moon @ 7:26 pm
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