For about the fourth time in two years, I've decided once again to try growing my hair a bit longer.
Quite frankly, I'm a bit fed-up with the short spiky look I've sported for the last ... ooo ... ten years!?
Blimey, has it really been that long?
Anyway, the thing is, I've just hit 'THE DANGER ZONE.' Y'know, that bit where you can get up one day, look in the mirror, and exclaim loudly "GEEZ!! I LOOK LIKE ROBERT SMITH!!!"
Then the next thing you know you're sitting in the barber's chair asking for a number 1.
So far, I'm taking it one day at a time. 'THE DANGER ZONE' is, you see, the point where you stray from the 'reasonably acceptable' into the 'looking a tad spoddy,' before, hopefully, coming out the other side with a dash of new style. Best pal Yaz describes 'THE DANGER ZONE' as 'looking a bit Jamie,' which, let's face it, no one needs.
The best bit of advice I've had about bypassing 'THE DANGER ZONE' is to wear a hat. But it's too warm to wear a beanie now, and so I'm going for the baseball cap. Because today, all I'd need would be a pair of NHS-regulation glasses and I'd be that first-year kid you taunted mercilessly when you were in secondary school.
And that is not really the look I'm going for.