UPDATED: Just for the record, I still do NOT like my hair. I was as hopeful as some of you were. And I assumed I was blowing things out of proportion when I proclaimed my haircut to be an inexperienced version of the Posh Spice cut caught in an electrical outlet. I hoped by letting a few days pass I'd allow myself to settle into my new 'do. Now, I've accepted that the only thing I can do is double my morning vitamin dose for the next month.
I twittered about my hair today.
And first, let me set this straight, I have never been one to get all worked up about my hair. In fact, during my freshman year in college a friend on my wing wanted to color my product free hair in our wing's bathroom. When it turned out a sparkling shade of platinum, there were no tears shed by me. "It's no biggy," I assured her. "Better luck next time, right?!" And during the rest of my college years, my friends and I preferred going to the Aveda Institute students for haircuts. I kind of liked the idea of not knowing what the scissors had in store for me. Besides, hey had instructors right next to them. I knew it would always end up appropriate.
And because I have an extremely hard time paying normal salon prices for cuts and colors--especially when the majority of the last 6 years I've had short hair that required a cut once a month--I have stuck with the drive thru salons, and have had pretty good luck with the stylists I've found.
But, like I said, this all happened because I'm so laxed about my hair. Let me show you what I mean.
Me: "Hi, I'm calling because I'd like to try to get in for a trim today and I'd like to see if my stylist is in.
Lady on the other end: "Ok, let me see, who is your stylist?
Me: "Well, I'm embarrassed to say it, but I don't remember her name. Can you look me up and see who's cut my hair the last few times?"
Lady on the other end: "Um, I. Don't. Know. Let me see. I guess..I'm not sure how to do that here."
Me: "Welllll, can't you just type my name in and see what comes up?"
Lady on the other end: "Hmm. Well, what did she look like?"
Me: "Oh, ok! She had dark hair. Really long dark hair."
Lady on the other end: "What else does she look like? Was she super skinny?"
Me: "Well. (hmm) No. (pause) She was a little heavier set, and she is quite the comedi..."
Lady on the other end: "Oh, wait! I found it here. It looks like that was me! Yep, I cut your hair the last time you were here."
Me: (Thinking back. If she was super skinny, that's an easy question to answer. Right? If she's not...not so easy.) "Ok. (what did I just say?) Well. (pause) Great! Then you're working today. Can I come in right now?
Lady on the other end: "Sure. I'll put your name down."
----Hold it right there. Embarrassing? Yes! End of story? No!----
So, I get to the salon and the Lady on the other end and I realized that we had never seen eachother before. She then apologized for the mistake and I assured her that was ok and I'd have her cut my hair anyways. She convinced me she knew exactly how to do an entire haircut with a razor, and she promised me it'd be "so cute" for the wedding we're attending tomorrow. The one where Mr. Marvelous and I will see all our high school friends at...that we haven't seen in ages.
Wrong. Wrong. She was most definitely wrong.
End of story? Yes.