So, I got a fringe.

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The thing about getting a fringe is that it’s not actually about hair, it’s about having BIG FEELINGS. When a woman tells you she’s thinking about getting a fringe she means she hates who she is or doesn’t know who she is or is so bored of who she is she feels like a human meh.

It means she has seen a photo of someone like Alexa Chung or Charlotte’s new friend LTW from And Just Like That and she feels certain that a fringe is the key to unlocking some ephemeral cool she’s always hankered after.

Narrator: she is on crack

So look, yes. This is what’s been on my mind:

Lisa Todd Wexley is my favourite character this season and definitely has the best outfits the end.

What’s really tipped me over the edge though, was seeing this photo of myself, taken on the day I had a hair appointment:

I mean I look like a thumb with hair. Such is the fate of anyone with a big forehead and an assertive double cow-lick.

A few hours later, with a head full of foils, I said the words all hairdressers dread: “Should I get a fringe?”

And about an hour after that, it was done:

Here’s how it looked after it was blow-dried:

And here is the finished product after my hairdresser, Elle, did a bit of a bend with some kind of hot tool:

In the interests of reality, here’s how it looked the next day when I tried to blow dry it myself and I don’t think I did a shit job even though I couldn’t be bothered to recreate the bend:

Naturally, my decision to get a fringe has nothing to do with my big feelings about being a 51 year old woman who is about to become a grandmother and enter a whole other stage of my life and is so excited I don’t know what to do with myself. No, no. It was purely an aesthetic decision based on my vast forehead real estate and my desire to look like a fictional character on a TV show who is, in fact, wearing a wig.

Onwards,

M xxxx