I had a day off today, so I went through my list of priorities very carefully…then chucked them away and decided to get my hair cut.
I travelled all the way to North London with my friend for this special trip. We managed to catch up on life on the way there. It’s funny how although we speak to each other everyday, it takes us months to meet up in the flesh. The longest time was 1 year!
We were greeted by the hairdresser, who was genuinely very pleased to meet us. I think it’s because we are really bonkers and tell her all the funny experiences we get from the hospital, and also generally we are a little mad.
As usual, I told her I wanted something different, however I always lack the courage when push comes to shove. She was very firm with me, and said a nice pink or red would suit me. I sat trembling with fear and apprehension through out my turn, until the end result….Not bad! It actually looks quite nice with pink highlights. She was laughing at me as she knew I was nervous of the outcome. I spent the rest of my time running my hair through my silky glossy locks, not paying much attention to anyone else. Shame I had to flatten my hair with my hijab.
On another note, I have had a few remarks about my age. First off, a parent of a child I was treating asked me the dreaded question which every woman hates to be asked: “how old are you?”
So far, I never thought my age was relevant to my qualifications. So, I angrily retorted “Why?” “Oh, You are too young to be a doctor” ?!?!?
Then, one of the nurses told me in confidence, “when they said you were the new doctor, I didn’t believe them. You look 20 years old, and I was thinking how young you must have been to start med school.”
The last straw was when the consultant (attending) asked me if I was a medical student.
I’m still undecided if it’s meant to be a compliment to my looks, or demeaning about my lack of confidence.