How rude. Robbie looked in to my eyes(non mascara-ed eyes.. he went to work with my make up bag in the car. Feel my pain as the realisation of a day without any features swept over me) and as I braced myself for a loving comment, he said
"what's with your hair today? It's kind of..."
me (quickly trying to intercept with excuses before he has to go on, trying to find words to explain my inexplicable barnet): "I washed it last night, and went to bed while it was still wet... I've tried to straighten it...
Rob: "yeah.. it's ...kind of.."
Me:"what? what? It's kind of what?" Thinking to myself, that if Robbie's noticed there's something amiss with my do, then it really must be bad.
Rob: "well, you kinda look like a psycho hose beast."
Well, there's really no comeback from that one.
So at the precise moment that I'm typing this post, my scalp is ringing with the sting of hair dye, and I shall be up to the wee small hours trying to sculpt a style in to this Medusa-inspired hairdo.
Wish me luck.