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Ya Know That Haircut We Talked About?

Well, I did it.

And I went out to the car and cried. And I said bad words. Lots of them.

And I came home and stuck my head under the faucet. And I messed with it and messed with it.

I resisted the urge to take a pair of scissors to it myself, and now an hour later, I’m almost past the suicidal phase. A little dramatic? You betcha.

What is it about hair? Seriously, is it THAT big of a deal?

So. Let’s start at the beginning.

As you’ll remember, I rarely like my haircuts, but for some reason, I thought this would be different. I went armed with a photo, rather than trying to describe what I wanted, which is huge for me. I KNEW that haircuts really depend on hair texture and thickness and body, so I asked her based on MY hair, would this be a good cut for me, and she said “yes, but we’ll probably start a little longer and see what you think. We can always make it shorter.” I was adamant that what I wanted was a messy look, not perfect. And something a little trendy, not an old lady cut. And not fluffy. I HATE old, and I HATE fluffy!

So, I’m in the chair, really chill. Not at all jacked up, or even apprehensive.

She starts whacking away, and I’m fine seeing all the hair coming off. And man, did she cut. Even though my hair is thinning over what it was in my younger years, I still have a LOT of hair.

I’m noticing it’s shorter than we discussed, but I’m still okay. Messy was my first priority, not length.

Then she starts blowing it dry, and I’m getting nervous. It’s beginning to fluff. And I’m not seeing any hint of messiness.

By the time she was done, it looked like I was wearing a football helmet. All smooth and round. The hysteria was building up in my chest, and I was trying not to let it show. Another stylist walked by and said, “oh that’s cute, it suits you.” I wanted to punch her in the face. It was the old lady cut I did NOT want. And she was saying it suited me.

I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, and barely made it to the car before I burst into tears.

I called Mr. Tattered to let him know I was not a happy camper, and he had me face time him to see how bad it was. He said all the supportive, loving things you’d want your partner to say, and didn’t laugh at my distress, but it didn’t help. I was pretty much beside myself.

Once I calmed down, I drove home and immediately stuck my head under the faucet and started from scratch. I don’t need my hair blown dry, so I just toweled it dry, then started shaping it with my fingers and a little sculpting stuff, scrunching it up here and there.

Before long, it was looking less awful. It’s not what I wanted, but it may be okay. Like I said, I have a bad hair life, why would that change at this late date?

3 of the four grandkids like it, Lulu’s preschool teacher said it was sassy and made me look 20 years younger, and of course the daughter and DIL were supportive. The son said it was better in person than the photo his wife sent him.

And after half a day, I’m accepting it. I don’t think it’s a bad cut, I just need to figure out how to style it better.

It’s only hair, for God’s sake.

What? You want to see the photo? …..Um. No. I’m not there yet.


About tatterednworn

I am a woman who has committed to living a creative life.

2 responses »

  1. Let me tell you about MY last haircut. And I have SORT of photos. Not of me, but the inside of the salon.

    First, I told the GUY who was to cut my hair exactly what I wanted, but he had never heard of the triangle. And I wanted a razor cut, which he had never performed. Then, he told me I wanted it too short, and I said NO, it’s not short enough. I also told him to leave my bangs alone, because I cut them myself. That was one of the first things he tried to do. I said NO, loudly, too. After screwing with my hair for awhile with scissors, he finally went and got one of the other beauticians who came and finished up with exactly how I wanted it, although she DID try to get me to leave it longer in the back. They could have shaved the back and left my bangs as far as I was concerned, and she finally got the point.

    Needless to say, I had to tip BOTH of them, and I was NOT a happy camper. It cost me nearly as much as the cut, because I’m a really good tipper. So, I can assure you, I can definitely empathize with you and your cut. At least you only had to tip ONE person. Now go have a good laugh and enjoy that new cut. Also, find a new beautician.

    • I don’t even know why I tipped when she didn’t do what I asked. I shouldn’t have. But I’m a weenie about stuff like that. I guess I was afraid MAYBE I would end up liking it and want to go back to her. I still hate the shape this morning, but I’ll spend some time fussing with it this weekend and see if I can’t get it to do something I can live with (without complaining…)


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