I have a fringe.
It’s the first time I’ve had a fringe since I was about seven. I think.
I felt like doing something a bit risky, suggested it to the hairdresser who went wild with delight, told me not to freak out, and who cut it while my back was turned to the mirror.
FF gave me banter about how I’d blog about having a changed identity and yadayadayada. This is largely because my new fringe, in combination with glasses and five years worth of ageing, caused me some issues at passport control on my way in and out of Germany this weekend. (Seriously, Clark Kent was on to something with his simple disguise.)
But I’m not different. My face is halved in size and my forehead is warmer. Which are good things. But I’m more paranoid about getting my hair wet – the ensuing hideous unattractive wacy fringe is something I’m dreading. Which is not so great.
I’m not fully used to it yet, but I think I kind of like it. I’m glad I took the risk!