I got a bad haircut today. Not as bad as this:
Just kidding Melissa! – I wish you had taken the scissors to my head instead of the woman I PAID to jack up my hair.
I got a haircut that at once looks like droopy and puffy dog ears on either side of my mug. And did I mention that she cut me some WISPS??? Like the kind I used to cut by myself when I was in 6th grade. One weekend in 6th grade I was curious how cutting my own hair would go. Since I was a little worried about messing up my waist length hair, I figured if I just took a little from the front it wouldn’t show. I am not claiming to be a hair genius, but then nor am I passing myself off as a stylist! Like someone I know…
My friend Vonda came over and watched the boys so I could go have some “me” time. How in the world did having kids turn getting my hair cut into quality “me” time? Anyhow, when I came back she was supportive but she did suggest I brush the wisps to the side. I spent the morning trying to convince her, and myself, that I didn’t really care how my hair looked and I succeeded, at least at fooling myself, for a while. This was strongly supported by not actually looking in a mirror. But then I did and found out that I do. I do indeed care that I look both juvenile and like the completely unhip minivan driving mom that I am. But it’s not who I am in my soul people (the minivan part, maybe) because in my delusional soul I have a little funk. It lives underground now and has for a long time but I remember her – that little patch of funk. In my mind this haircut was going to be her coming out party. I was going to let my funk see the light of day. Big plans I had.
So instead I got wisps and puffy bozo hair. Wisps! Believe me when I tell you that I do not have the face for wisps. Me + small scale= Funny. The sad kind of funny. I should have knocked the rounded brush out of her hand when I saw her approach my hair with it. I should have given her a mouth full of truck when she finished with the cut but instead I paid and tipped her. And I was voted “aggressive” on the assertive scale by my peers in my mandatory touchy feely class freshman year in college.
I am going to shower the blow dry out and sleep on it and then in the morning if I still have “Do your eats hang low, do they wobble to and fro?” playing in a loop in my head I am going to a DIFFERENT salon for a fix it cut. Sweet goodness. Wisps!
And I tried to fix them for you right before this shot.
Lesson learned today: Maybe it’s not the best idea to say to your hairdresser, “I am not that into my hair.” just before she cuts it.
Second Lesson: Don’t get your hair cut right before the beginning of the year potluck picnic for your son’s Kindergarten class. I mean it.