Blond again

With the return of the summer comes the return of the return of hair colour tomfoolery. Unfortunately, I seem to have misplaced my camera — I’ll bet I left it at my parents’ house — so I have provided the photo above, which is a reasonable approximation of what I’ll look like for the next few months.

Normally, going blond is something that happens without incident. This time, however, I think my hairstylist Roxy got a bit too liberal with the peroxide, which has left my scalp a little sore for a day or so. Being a guy, I machoed my way through the pain during the bleaching, only to dicover later that I’d earned a small Mikhail Gorbachev-like burn at my hairline, right where I part my hair. Thankfully it’s small, noticeable only if you really look closely and already fading. I must have a word with Roxy when I see her next.

I can still take comfort in the fact that:

• On the scale of disastrous results of male endurance rituals, it’s pretty minor.
• I look mahhhh-velous.