Lucy Butterfield

LUCY BUTTERFIELD’s year has got off to a great start.

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I made my New Year’s resolutions in October. Somewhat premature perhaps, but for those of us who wearily tread the beaten track of studenthood this is when the year really begins. I packed my case vowing to dominate all work, go to the gym, increase my anti-oxidant levels, learn Mandarin, write a novella, practice Kabbalah, revamp my entire wardrobe and bag a super-hot new boyfriend.

How to begin this period of unadulterated excellence? Return early of course, and hit the UL. Alas, fast-forward one week and the demon Facebook informs me the ex has entered a new relationship. I hit Sainsbury’s bakery, and I hit it hard. Arrive best friend. She takes one look at my jam-smeared visage and suggests a different course of action.

“Let’s dye your hair!”

Absent-mindedly selecting a seventeenth biscuit from my heavily depleted tin, it takes a while for the notion to sink in, but sink in it does and I’m fully on board. The colour choice is quickly made – I am to be transformed into the blondest of bombshells. I will channel Marilyn, Charlize, Gwyneth, and a new lease of life will ensue.

I make my merry way down to Boots and select the most dangerous-looking platinum blonde hair-dye I can find, which is applied expertly by best friend that evening. Finally the alarm goes and I leap into the shower, ridding myself of the more-burny-than-tingly sensation assailing the skin around my hairline. I was not new to this game, having already dyed my hair red pre-summer.

Returning to my room with a towel turban around my head, it’s time for the long-awaited Big Reveal.

“Oh wow! It’s er…it’s really interesting!”

It was not interesting. It was orange. In my haste I had forgotten what I was taught at primary school. What do you get when you mix red and yellow? My new and supposedly improved hair had bypassed the ranks of the Christina Hendricks sexpot ginge and was partly clinging to red, largely orange, and even a tiny bit blonde in places. I was less Scarlett Johansson, more Ginny Weasley; less Gwen Stefani, more Tim Burton’s mad hatter. The XXL Live Colour promised me on the box had turned into an XXL Living Nightmare. Because after all, I’m worth it.

So this January, I plan to shun all resolutions except those which are easy to keep, and I suggest you do the same. Let’s increase our levels of alcohol consumption, superstition, procrastination and saturated fats, read less, eat more and stop exercising. Happy 2012.