Unless you’re Pinocchio and refusing to tell the truth, we’ve all had a hair disaster. You know, the cut that was so shite you had to go to ground until it grew out, or the time the hairdresser was hungover and gave you a mullet AND a wonky fringe. Ringing any bells?
But there’s worse than that, ladies. Oh yes. The very worst terror at the hairdressers has to be the fear of coming out with a Mammy-style helmet. You went in a hip, sassy gal with your finger on the pulse, and you slunk out with, variously, a boxy, cropped-close-to-the-head cut; a feathered, hickey ‘do or something so practical and no-nonsense as to strip you of every iota of sex appeal you ever had.
Truly this is the pinnacle of hair-horror.
Have you ever suffered this fate? If so, what did you do? Cry? Scream? Get a paper bag? Dish all in the comments!