I'll tell you why.
In brief, when our hairdresser came round the other evening, I decided I wanted a real change. I used to have a fringe when I was younger, but then I had much straighter hair.
I seem to have forgotten this entirely.
And because I see Luca's dead-straight hair all day every day, I have somehow deluded myself into thinking we have similar hair and that I could have a fringe like his.
I had a fringe like this in mind.
Instead, I have ended up with this.
A Hideous. Frizzy. Mess.
Even the birds are giving it a wide berth.
Why, oh why, didn't I listen to the hairdresser? She warned me it wouldn't be a thick fringe. She warned me that I would have to train it. And deep down I knew she was right.
But I tried to convince myself that a) I'm not too lazy to blow-dry a few strands of hair every morning, b) I have a thick, glossy mane of hair and c) I actually care what I look like.
Now, I've got to wait for it to grow out.