Just call me Bob

As you know, I hacked off my almost waist length hair recently. Since then, I've suffered a style which AG describes as "like an afro", thanks to humidity-induced frizziness.

Last week straight after getting back from Brisbane, I headed to Stefan's at Pacific Fair. Earlier, I'd responded to a notice for short hair models figuring they couldn't possibly reject me. Being short, with short hair to boot, I fit the requirements to a T.

Having had many nightmarish experiences at other salons, I'd brought along a picture of a bob I found online. With hair as thick as mine, it's pretty difficult getting it to sit nicely on my head without having to resort to some form of chemical treatment. My trepidation was compounded by the fact that I have never once heard an Asian person compliment Australian hairstyling skills.

I won't bore you with the exact details, but I basically had four people working on my head, snipping, washing, blow drying etc. After about two hours (in which my glutes were cramped into a coma), I emerged like the proverbial butterfly out of its cocoon.

It was totally awesome.

The layers weren't overdone and framed my face perfectly. Here you judge for yourself.



I ♥ my hair. After that, I took a quick stroll around the mall eyeing for Positions Vacant signs as usual and bumped into a friend. To my utter amusement, she and her friend had been admiring my crowning glory earlier, though they failed to recognise me.

I felt (and still feel!) like a Pantene ad model.