Christmas Day - Final Post

So the day started off in the usual way.

Miserable. But then I got into the shower and ooh aah I did the deed. It felt better from the first second I stepped out of the shower. As it dried it went into nice waves like it used to. I truly feel like my old self again. Here's the evidence:

I was going to take the cardigan off but I thought why break with tradition at this stage? I actually haven't even been wearing it for most of the day!

I have to say this experiment has been less fun than I thought it would be, and I'm also gutted that it didn't work at all. I think I can safely say I've busted the myth that giving up shampoo improves one's hair. It's disappointing but shampoo and conditioner really are the most wondrous and transformative products ever created.

A great Christmas day was had by all here. Only a couple of minor mishaps- Mummy forgot about the stuffing and we only remembered it 8 hours later when the aga started pumping black smoke. She also misplaced a whole load of presents. At least we had a great game of charades- I tried to act out Lorna Doon by doing 'sounds like' porn poon. They didn't get it.

Anyway, thanks dear readers for sticking with me through this long and painful process. I am going to try not to wash my hair quite so often as before, and I swear I will give up wearing the spotty cardigan quite so frequently. Happy Christmas.

Last day of hell

Christmas eve has been a tough day here. I woke up with a slight hangover at 8:30am and have been slaving to get everything ready for Christmas until now- 01:37am! But I have done wondrous things in the crafts department. I can't give too much away just yet, but I have crafted some amazing shit out of copper pipes, reconstituted parts of Primark bags and an old tea set.

My hair is greasy.com. I'm actually relieved though that it hasn't suddenly started looking bounteous and amazing- I am just so looking forward to washing it now. Only a few hours to go!

 

More Christmas shit

Check out the view from my bedroom window:

It is well Christmassy here. The hair hasn't been bothering me too much. I'm close enough to the end now to be relishing the completion of the experiment. Tonight we went out to a Christmas drinks party at our family friends' house and my mother went around telling people why my hair looked so dire (to make sure that no one thought it was from lack of personal hygiene). I had a few strangers coming up to me and they all said that it really didn't look that bad. Everyone insists that they are simply being polite, and I think that's probably true. Here's me when I got back at 1am and realised I hadn't yet written my blog.

Having sworn to never again think about the lump that popped up yesterday on the back of my head, I couldn’t resist a quick google of carbuncle. (Alright, I had to check the spelling). What I found out made my blood run cold. Apparently it is a lesion caused by a group of infected hair follicles. It is most commonly caused by poor peronal hygiene… They occur most frequently on the back or nape of the neck… “Carbunculosis” is horribly contagious… They have to be drained in order to heal but sometimes they are so deep they have to be lanced…

Uh-oh.

Driving home for Christmas

Tonight I drove back to Oxford for Christmas. We got back pretty late, but not too late to do some highly professional tree decorating. Here’s me in action:

I rinsed the hair this morning so it hasn’t been too bad today. Whenever I rinse the hair my hands end up coated in grease- the water beads right off.  It beads off the hair too like I'm a duck. Here’s another revolting revelation: I found a carbuncle on the back of my head that hurts. I don’t know if it’s a cyst or a boil or WHAT but I’m just not going to think about it any more.  If this hair experiment has caused me a permanent disfiguration I will not be amused. 

Vile, vile day

Today has been one of the worst days of the whole experience. I discovered this morning... a massive, painful spot on the back of my head. I keep absent-mindedly scratching it and it really hurts. This has to be the lowest of the low. My hair is slimy and sticky and dry all at once. It is just horrific. I am now FANTASISING about that shower on Christmas morning.

Late night

Scrappy and scraggly. I've taken to wearing my bobble hat in the office and my house. Today has been a hardcore day of Christmas shopping and doing crafts. I still have four Christmas presents to MAKE before Christmas day. I estimate it will take me about 30 more hours. So it's do-able if I stay up until 1am every night this week, like tonight. Night night.

Market Day

Today Jack and I took our new company Sweet View to the Sunday Upmarket on Brick Lane. It was a long and tiring day but we sold a few prints, scoped out the competition and developed our sales patter. Lots of our friends came to see us during the day which was nice. All of my sisters came and Lils put us to shame with her agressive Apprentice-style sales tactic, which was to go roaming asking people if they'd like to buy a print of London. It didn't actually work but it was highly impressive nonetheless.

There is no more perfect opportunity for wearing a woolly hat all day than a market on a freezing day, so the barnet didn't hamper me too much. I took it off for a minute though, just for the record:

Here's us at our stall (after we fled the white, empty room that we were originally put in, and got told off for moving without asking):

My sisters came to see us. Sadly Lils isn't captured in action on film. I think she was off haranguing people at this point whilst Ems and Cescy stuck to polite 'hellos!' But at least they were wearing Del Boy jackets and looked the part.

Stressful day

Oooh it's been a stressful day. AND I had a day off work. I did 16 hours of sold preparation for our Sweet View market stall on Sunday.

Hair: horrible. And I didn't even have time to apply any make up so it was a double whammy of buttersness.

Christmas drinks

I went to a work-related Christmas party after work tonight. Meeting professional people (and purporting to be a professional person) is not easy when you look like a miserable, ill person. Luckily my colleague Anna, her friend Liv and I just chatted to one another and I failed to make a single work contact, which really is how I like to do these things.

I had to go to Brick Lane at lunch to give a man £50 because I am taking a stall at the market in the Old Truman Brewery on Sunday. Jack and I are having a Sweet View blast and trying to cash in on some desperate Christmas shoppers. Anyway, it rained heavily as I struggled across Shoreditch (it rains every time I go to east London without fail) and I think the rain water helped the barnet. Or maybe it made it worse. Who knows eh?

Come to our stall on Sunday! We'll be selling these: http://www.sweetview.co.uk/.

Ems returns

Today my sister Ems got back from doing a two month internship in Washington- hooray! It was the first time she'd seen the hair and she actually didn't seem to think it looked too bad. But she must have forgotten what I look like normally because in my view today has been one of the worst days.

My dad, who hates the hair project more than anyone, took this photo, which really captures the sebum seeping down the hair shafts. It's like his hatred of the project is in someway also captured in the photo- I find it incredibly hard to take photos which show the reality of the hair. I think it's because I'm always trying to look on the positive side. Not him. 

Dinner Party

Tonight Amy and I hosted a dinner party for her birthday. It was a great success- bellinis, followed by fish pie followed by birthday cake and mini-magnums.

My hair looked absolutely disgusting. Some of Amy's colleagues came, who I hadn't met before and they just looked like such nice, normal people. I'm forgetting what it's like to feel like a nice, normal person. This is probably why homeless people find it hard to get back into mainstream society- when you have revolting hair you just do not belong.

Despite a million great photo opportunities I'm afraid it's yet another bathroom shot.

H&M

I went to H&M today and took advantage of looking at the back of my head in their terrible double mirrors. I then tried to take a photo to capture what I could see. Getting a view of both the front and back of my head simultaneously was no confidence boost. But then, even at the best of times, I find it possible to spend a whole lunch break looking aghast at the back half of my body in the evil double mirrors in H&M.

Sunday

Today I was hungover because I went to my housemate Amy's birthday drinks last night. We have all sat on the sofa for about 12 hours today, and that's about it. Other notable highlights were a trip to Sainsbury's, eating some minstrels and having a take away from Kennington Tandoori.

My resolution is to take photos which more accurately show the state of the hair. It is surprisingly hard. I tried to capture the slicked nature of it today, but it doesn't look anywhere near as dire here as it does in real life.

Brighton

Today I went to Brighton with Jess to see our friend Hanna who has moved there to do a masters. We had a great day- we spent hours looking round antiques markets (we have reached that point) and went to Brighton's premier veggie restaurant Terre a Terre. Hanna hadn't seen the hair in a while and had a good laugh when I took my hat off.

Hanna bought an amazing owl mask:

How we laughed!

Jess bought a really cumbersome screen.

Which we had to take back on the train to London:

Barnet: not great.

Excision

Today I had to go and have a third mole removed. But they couldn't just chop it off because it was flat so I had to go and have it sliced out. On my own! The worst part was I could feel the doctor really pushing hard with the knife through my flesh. She said that young people have much tougher skin and cutting an old people in contrast is like slicing a knife through butter. She said this all whilst tugging and chopping at my open wound. I thought I was going to vomit. Because I was being incredibly brave (if I do say so myself) the doctor and the trainee doctor were getting very cavalier and there were a few remarks like "ooh don't like now, you'll faint!" But they were extremely nice and jolly, and in my view that is the most important thing.

Ooh the hair has taken a back seat today! Haven't event noticed it what with my big gash - 11 stitches in total. The best part was when the doctor said "you have the slightest layer of fat I've ever seen on a human". Result! She knew how to flatter me. Don't think she would have said that if she'd been operating on my arse.

Meh

Not much to report. Rinsed it, looks marginally better. I'm forgetting what hairstyle I actually have because my hair looks so shit. It looks weirdly long in this picture. I thought I still had a bob...

Low point

I really hope this is as bad as it ever gets. It's really bad. I'm feeling depressed as hell. When I watch TV or see real people all I can do is gaze at their lovely hair. I just haven't looked nice, or even just normal for so long. And it just doesn't matter how much make-up you apply or how nice your outfit is, there's nothing that can be done when you have a sopping wig of hell on your head.

Kissing techniques

The hair is taking on a life of it's own. It's like wearing a wig made of guinea pig hair- one of those long haired guinea pigs with multiple crowns. Rinsing it only helps for about a day now.

I was looking up a tutorial on paper cutting on youtube and came across this gem of video about how to get someone to kiss you:

 

I suppose that plying your love interest with booze isn't SUCH bad advice. But coming out with sexual innuendos?? Mad. No lesbians would go for that.

Excessive washing

I'm washing a crazy amount. Two showers yesterday and I still had one this morning. I just had to- the hair was so, SO disgusting. But once I feel I have achieved a minimum level of decency I really am past caring about the way the hair looks and feels. I'm just used to it now. I did have a nice fantasy today about that first hair wash- I gave some real thought to what shampoo and conditioner I'd use. I was even thinking about washing it twice... 

It's hard to concentrate on this blog post because there is dog outside howling and I can hear my mum shouting "shut up!" incresingly angrily to it from her bedroom window.

Jack actually thought that he'd done a good job when I asked him to take a photo of me...

Sunday

Today was another hardcore day of cooking. Yesterday I made 30 sausages and baked two gammon knuckles and didn't even have time to have dinner. Today I ate the gammon with a barley and leek concoction I devised, with a single scotch egg made from the leftover sausage meat for pudding. And then later I whipped up 12 little cakes with cream cheese icing.

As you can see I still look like arse. But I did have a hangover from consuming 15 drinks in the space of two hours on Saturday night. Every single one of my drinks contained red bull as well so I was up for a good few hours after I got home, on my own- really fun!  

Sausages

Is the hair greasy or is it dry? I brush it slick to my head but then when I flip it around it's like a mass of wire wool. Today I made sausages and it took about 5 hours. The guardian's recent feature on how to make your own sausages not only compelled me to buy a mincer with sausage-making attachment but also tricked me into thinking that sausage-making would take about half an hour. In addition John Lewis accidently replicated my order so now I have two mincers with sausage attachments. I would give the second one to someone else for Christmas but I can't think of another person on the planet who would appreciate it. When I went to a car boot sale last weekend I also saw for sale the identical cast iron mincer and had an overwhelming urge to buy that one too. It seems the only things you really get excited about when second hand shopping are the things you already own. Anyway here's me making sausages- far too many for one household to consume.

Early night (Friday)

Running out of things to say about the hair to be perfectly honest. It looks bad. If only I could remember not to take my make up off before taking the photo. Jack was actually lying beside me in bed at this point and I did take a couple of photos with him in the background. But he got so furious at the thought that the wider world might see him tucked up in bed like a baby that I haven't dared post them.

Lucky it's snowing

My dandruff has turned into a white powder so fine that it is making my hair look grey at the roots. I have endeavoured to take as informative a photo as possible this time. Note the white flakes, but also the overall greyish colouring to the hair.

I received another furious onslaught from my dad at dinner. Apparently his hairdresser told him that what I am trying to do is impossible and a waste of time. He also said that he had wanted to invite me to his office christmas drinks (he works at a grand auction house) but he simply COULD NOT have me there looking like this. He also said that the fact my boss tells our authors is because he is WARNING them. He even tried "you're 26 now, you should be a bit more mature". I took great pleasure in telling him I was thinking of launching the blog to a wider readership and had another good scratch. He is livid.

Bikram

This evening I went to a Bikram yoga class with my friend Soph. This is where you do 90 minutes of yoga in a room where the heating has been turned up to 40 degrees. Dear lord. Within 1 minute of the class starting I thought I was going to vomit and faint, and I had to sit down. It was frighteningly hard. Almost every movement made me feel faint so I'm not actually convinced I did any exercise at all. And in the 'rest' periods you have to fight a rising panic and listen to your pulse thundering in your ears. One guy became so delirious they couldn't get him out of the room.

It was so sweaty that throughout the class I could hear the constant pitter patter of people's sweat dripping onto their yoga mats. And for a blissful 90 minutes I was sweating so much that no one knew I hadn't washed my hair for three and a half weeks.