The Honorary Hunzo | Post-Traumatic Fringe Flashbacks

I reclined in the massage chair and felt the vibrations reverberate down my lower back. Jiggling like a bowl of blancmange, I smiled broadly at the poor unfortunate hosing my thick mane. Yes, I would have serum infused with the essence of jojoba oil massaged into my mop. In this land regulated by customer service rules, I was king.

Upon awaiting my complimentary frothy latte, I began to ponder upon the potential styles that would best suit my unique sense of individuality. I wanted to “run my hands through my fro” while embodying the same sense of fulfilment as the young rapscallion, Nelly once had.

Suddenly it hit me! A full voluptuous fringe is what I NEEDED to truly make an impact on the world.

I reflected upon how great my life would become adorned with a fringe. I would find happiness with a fringe. I would source a mate due to fringe admiration. Maybe even climb up the career ladder? Only someone who is all powerful could control a frisky fringe, someone who was clearly a born leader. I smirked contentedly. That person would be me.

I awaited the arrival of the hairdresser in eager anticipation of the exciting instruction I was about to impart on her. She would accept the challenge I was sure.

A young man strode over, pointing his comb at me in an accusatory manner, like some form of fatal weapon. “Sorry hon, I’m Jamie, Sinead isn’t in today. It will be me doing your hair“

My heart trembled with trepidation. Jamie could be the sassy obstacle in the way of my glorious dream. Jamie chewed on bubble gum absent-mindedly, and inspected my wet locks.

“Just a quick trim is it hon?”

“No I would like a fringe please. A full fringe”.

The colour drained from Jamie’s face.

“You don’t know what you are saying, you know I can’t…..”

His blonde quiff quivered, like a dollop of cream atop a warm mince pie in winter. I nodded solemnly, intensely gazing at him, desire burning in my eyes.

“I am going to go mix your colour hon and I really need you to think about it, remember what happened last time“.

He sashayed off as i took a trip down memory lane.

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Why was the experience so hazy? Was i truly dazzled by future fringe fantasies. Was this blind sightedness akin to how new mothers love for their babies masks the pain of labour? Was my adoration of the fringe as a concept, leading to a radical departure from sane decision making?

Suddenly like a recovering Vietnam vet I succumbed to a vicious bout of visceral flash backs. The crackling hissing sound of a ginger fringe, curling in the summer heat. The snap crackle and pop of a fizzy fro to be heard by all in the office, reminding them of their nostalgic cereal filled childhoods.

An unruly fringe splitting in the middle, like the red seas parting, forming what is colloquially known as a “Fanny Fringe”. Cancelling gym classes knowing my fringe could not withstand the perspiration. Cancelling evening plans with friends as the temperature drop would affect the fringe’s natural form, leading to clumping/separation. Cancelling work to tend to my full time fringe.

I began to panic, and burst into tears, the sobs wracking my body. Jamie rushed to my aid, and held me close..

“It’s ok hon.. It happens to us all… Shhh it’s ok I would never have done it, you know I wouldn’t have listened”.

I gazed at him earnestly, clasping his manicured hands in my pudgy paws.

“Thank you.. I owe you my life. How can I ever hope to repay you?”

“Visa card and..maybe a facebook like“.

He trimmed, and I counted my blessings for the boring bangs that the Lord bequeathed upon me. Never again would I deviate from the norm, nor “try something new for a change“.

My post-traumatic fringe flashback has taught me many things. Fringes are not for the faint hearted, and I would never risk my happiness for a flamboyant fantasy again.