Long locks

I am being ridiculous, I know, as I embark, yet again, on trying to grow my hair out.

When I told my charming housemate of my new great life ambition, he said, matter-of-factly, "You'll look like Ting Tong."

Ting Tong is a short, bald, overweight British man dressed as a Thai mail-order bride, off the hugely acclaimed Little Britain series. Ting Tong looks like this:


Pish. I won't look like Ting Tong. I won't even be growing my hair out that long!

The reason(s) for this deep and profound, life-changing decision is only because
1) I'm tired of waking up every morning and finding my short hair in a total state of disarray.
2) I fancy a boy who told me, in passing, that I should grow my hair out. "It'll be nice!" he said, smilingly.

Actually, it's mostly the second reason and yes, yes, I know how juvenile it all sounds. The very feminist part of me has given a nasty glare, crossly folded her arms and stormed, cursing, out of the room.

But the boy is a special one and I'm going to give this long-locks thing a go for the sake of Harlequin romance and true-love-forever-and-ever. The worse that could happen is I look crap and get mistaken for Ting Tong's twin - nothing that a pair of sharp scissors and wonderful Emil The Stylist at The Met couldn't fix.