Summary
MY NAME is Frances and I haven't been to the hairdresser's for six months. Neither, for that matter, have I had a salon leg wax, manicure, facial, fake tan or any of the other panoply of body maintenance treats I, like so many women, used to regard as essential.
Before March, I could not have imagined making this confession, such was my reliance on regular beauty MOTs. After all, it's been 18 years since I started having my hair dyed with a permanent tint, when a stubborn, dappled grey stripe failed to yield to my usual wash-out colour. Running repairs on my long, dark hair have since cost me Pounds 50 every month.See the full content of this document
Extract
I'll Make You Yummy, Mummy! [Eire Region]
Then there were facials - the enforced hour-long liedown as blissful as the treatment - which became an intermittent, but much anticipated, Pounds 45-a-time indulgence when I started full-time work.
Waxing seemed like a necessity if I didn't want to be mistaken for the Missing Link. And I thought it judicious to delegate the task to a professional after a disaster in which I'd scalded my skin on a home hot wax kit as a teenager. Another Pounds 45 every six weeks.But with the onset of the credit crunch, all these treatments sudden...See the full content of this document
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