"What about this one?" I lifted the magazine and pointed my finger towards a different model.

There was a slight pause as my hairdresser scrutinized the picture. "Hum, nope. Can't do that for you. Your hair's too short." 

 "This one?" I suggested. 

"Nah, I don't think it'll suit you" He replied bluntly.

My face fell as I continued flipping through the glossy pages. 

"Okay You know what?" He clasped his hands and took in a deep breath. "I think what you need i something refreshing. Something different. Something..... bold." He said and flung his hands up in a very girly manner. 

"You know Victoria Beckham?" He asked as he stared straight into my eyes

I nodded my head furiously

"You want to look like her?" 

It was a rhetorical question. I mean, he said Victoria Beckham. I was fourteen and Princess Diaries made me believe hairdressers had magical powers to transform ugly ducklings into beautiful swans/princesses. 

So I screamed yes, and immediately he drew out his pair scissors and began working with my hair. I was still grinning from ear to ear as I continued thumbing through the pages of the magazines. Wow. Posh Spice! I was excited. I was squirming from my seat. 

He was snipping frantically and I saw locks of hair - lots and lots of my hair - falling all around me. But it's okay, like he said it was going to be a refreshing change. I shifted my attention back to the article I was reading. 

Half an hour later, he puts the hairdryer down and removes the towel from my back. "Taa-daa!!" He exclaimed.

I was still reading the article about the husband who cheated on his wife with his neighbour's maid but when I looked up and saw my reflection on the mirror, I instantly dropped the magazine.

I... I... I was speechless. My jaw hung open as I stared blankly at my reflection. 

Victoria Beckham? HELLO, he gave me mushroom hair! 

I remember my pillow soaked with tears. I remember my maid snickering at the back of my kitchen. I remember asking mommy if hair tonic would work. She called me a silly girl. I remember considering the idea of wearing a tudung to school. 

That was 8 years ago. 

Last week, I walked into the hairdressers to get a trim. 

"Just ONE inch" I said very slowly and carefully. I had to be extremely precise, no way am I allowing the mushroom hair to make its comeback. 

I sat up straight and monitored her closely as she worked swiftly with the scissors. No more husband cheating on wife with neighbour's maid distracting stories. My eyes never left the sight of her deadly weapon. And so an inch shorter it was at the end of the haircut. 

I fished out my wallet to draw a 20Pound note.

"Sorry love, it's 30Pounds"

"30? But it says 20pounds on your price list there" I pointed towards the sign board

"Cut and wash with the Senior Stylist.. 30 pounds, love" She smiled. "I'm a senior stylist" She placed a hand on her chest. 

"Err.... Student discount?" I batted my eyelashes

"We don't do student discounts" 

Thirty Pounds. For ONE inch. Sigh.