Wanted: One good wig. Or hitman to rough up hairdresser. Or both.
Alright, so here’s a story to which every woman in America (maybe every man too) can relate.
I needed a haircut. Badly. I pretty much had not had a haircut since the spring and it’s been a long summer of swimming and outdoor play. The ends of my hair were like straw.
So I started looking around at hairstyles and decided I was going to get an
inverted bob.
Shorter in the back – longer in the front. I was a bit nervous about this, because my 20-year high school reunion (ACK!) is about 3 months away and I didn’t want too drastic of a change. So I figure if I keep the ends to about collarbone length in the front, I can always grow it out by the reunion in November.
I walk into my hair salon and sitting at the reception desk is a young woman with exactly the haircut I am coveting. It’s about mid-neck in the back and sweeps down to grace her shoulders in the front. It’s adorable.
My hairdresser calls me back to his chair and I tell him what I want. He is nodding along in agreement.
“Actually,” I say, “the woman at the front desk? That’s exactly what I’m looking for.”
“Oh!” he says. “I just cut her hair two days ago. No problem.”
So I am thinking, “WOW! Excellent. He knows exactly what to do. I mean, afterall, he just did this exact cut TWO DAYS AGO. And there is a real-life model a mere 15 feet away from us.”
I get washed and return to his chair and he again confirms, mid-neck in the back, just past shoulders in the front.
“Sounds great,” I say.
And he starts to cut. And cut. And cut. And by the time he makes his way to the front of my hair, I realize that the ends in the front are just barely chin length. Barely. If I pull on them a little.
It is about this time, he realizes his mistake.
“Is the length OK in the front?” he asks.
"Hmmm. Let me see. Considering that it’s a full TWO INCHES above what we discussed, what do you think, fuckwit?!? Now start gluing all those individual hairs back onto my head, tootsweet. I don’t have all fucking day."
OK, I didn’t say that. I believe it’s in my best interest not to piss off anyone holding scissors inches from my head. And besides, what’s the point? What’s done is done. At this point, the only choice you really have to is make the best of it.
So yeah. My hairdresser somehow fucked up a haircut he himself performed on another woman—a woman who was seated only a few feet away—48 hours before. HOW???? DOES???? THIS??? HAPPEN???? TO??? ME????
This is especially upsetting because on my round pumpkin face this is just about theeeeee most unflattering length possible. It reminds of Sally Field’s “brown football helmet” hairstyle in Steel Magnolias. Not. Good.
OK. OK. I know. It’s only hair.
It will grow back.
Yes, there is at least a small chance that I’m overreacting to this. Wee. Minute. Teensy. I accept that. But come on? I don't think I know one person who does not have a "my hairdresser completely fucked up my hair" story. If one of my clients asked me for a newsletter and I delivered an intranet, I'd probably get in pretty big trouble here at work. Perhaps he was confused between "chin" and "shoulder?" Maybe next time I go I should bring a diagram of the human body? Sheesh.
And also, hello?? Twenty-year class reunion? Three months from now? People I haven’t see in two decades? Yes, vanity, thy name is Kimberly. I want to walk in there looking and feeling great. It all adds up to shit.
For the next 12 weeks, I’ll be taking lots of vitamins B and E and massaging my scalp and mediating to send energy to my hair in an effort to foster increased growth. Any other tips? Wigs? Extensions? I’m only partly joking here, people. If Britney can get away with it, so can I.
Looking really happy about my new haircut. NOT.
Does this look “shoulder length” to you? Maybe if I shrug my shoulders really high. Like to my ears. UGH.
I needed a haircut. Badly. I pretty much had not had a haircut since the spring and it’s been a long summer of swimming and outdoor play. The ends of my hair were like straw.
So I started looking around at hairstyles and decided I was going to get an
inverted bob.
Shorter in the back – longer in the front. I was a bit nervous about this, because my 20-year high school reunion (ACK!) is about 3 months away and I didn’t want too drastic of a change. So I figure if I keep the ends to about collarbone length in the front, I can always grow it out by the reunion in November.
I walk into my hair salon and sitting at the reception desk is a young woman with exactly the haircut I am coveting. It’s about mid-neck in the back and sweeps down to grace her shoulders in the front. It’s adorable.
My hairdresser calls me back to his chair and I tell him what I want. He is nodding along in agreement.
“Actually,” I say, “the woman at the front desk? That’s exactly what I’m looking for.”
“Oh!” he says. “I just cut her hair two days ago. No problem.”
So I am thinking, “WOW! Excellent. He knows exactly what to do. I mean, afterall, he just did this exact cut TWO DAYS AGO. And there is a real-life model a mere 15 feet away from us.”
I get washed and return to his chair and he again confirms, mid-neck in the back, just past shoulders in the front.
“Sounds great,” I say.
And he starts to cut. And cut. And cut. And by the time he makes his way to the front of my hair, I realize that the ends in the front are just barely chin length. Barely. If I pull on them a little.
It is about this time, he realizes his mistake.
“Is the length OK in the front?” he asks.
"Hmmm. Let me see. Considering that it’s a full TWO INCHES above what we discussed, what do you think, fuckwit?!? Now start gluing all those individual hairs back onto my head, tootsweet. I don’t have all fucking day."
OK, I didn’t say that. I believe it’s in my best interest not to piss off anyone holding scissors inches from my head. And besides, what’s the point? What’s done is done. At this point, the only choice you really have to is make the best of it.
So yeah. My hairdresser somehow fucked up a haircut he himself performed on another woman—a woman who was seated only a few feet away—48 hours before. HOW???? DOES???? THIS??? HAPPEN???? TO??? ME????
This is especially upsetting because on my round pumpkin face this is just about theeeeee most unflattering length possible. It reminds of Sally Field’s “brown football helmet” hairstyle in Steel Magnolias. Not. Good.
OK. OK. I know. It’s only hair.
It will grow back.
Yes, there is at least a small chance that I’m overreacting to this. Wee. Minute. Teensy. I accept that. But come on? I don't think I know one person who does not have a "my hairdresser completely fucked up my hair" story. If one of my clients asked me for a newsletter and I delivered an intranet, I'd probably get in pretty big trouble here at work. Perhaps he was confused between "chin" and "shoulder?" Maybe next time I go I should bring a diagram of the human body? Sheesh.
And also, hello?? Twenty-year class reunion? Three months from now? People I haven’t see in two decades? Yes, vanity, thy name is Kimberly. I want to walk in there looking and feeling great. It all adds up to shit.
For the next 12 weeks, I’ll be taking lots of vitamins B and E and massaging my scalp and mediating to send energy to my hair in an effort to foster increased growth. Any other tips? Wigs? Extensions? I’m only partly joking here, people. If Britney can get away with it, so can I.
Looking really happy about my new haircut. NOT.
Does this look “shoulder length” to you? Maybe if I shrug my shoulders really high. Like to my ears. UGH.
Labels: potty mouth, Temporary Insanity, Venting
posted by Kimberly at
9:24 PM
5 Comments:
I haven't laughed this hard in a long, long time. Not at you, but because as you said, we have all been there. I had one haircut where my head would not fit into the car, where I was told, a little makeup but help. Then I had another where I told him not to cut the top on the upper back of my head. First cut he makes, yup.....cuts off 3-4 inches and starts putting in several layers. OOPS, he says, when I call it to his attention and tell him to stop immediately. I left with a cut that resembled Dennis the Mennis looking like a rooster.
Then the famous cut in NYC when I paid mucho bucks to have the style of the times......she made one cut to the back of my head and called it fini!!!!!
Cheer up Kim, you have my head of hair and it will have considerably grown out by November.
OH I totally remember that NYC haircut. That was crazy! At least you didn't pay howeverfreakingmuch to just get it conditioned like a certain other member of our party. :-)
K -
I am betting it will be longer by the reunion, don't fret! I personally like it :) Of course, I would be PO'd at my hairdresser though. Are you going back to that guy?
Just to make you feel better - I once dyed my hair dark brown and it turned green! Oh the chuckle everyone got out of that - it was during college and I realized my mistake at a frat party (darn TKE's). I drove home the next day for an emergency hair color!
Hang in there - you will look fab come the reunion!
You are adorable - in writing wit & in hairstyle. It is so hard to remove yourself and look at what others will see, not what you were going for and do not feel you've achieved. I personally try to walk around with an image of me looking like a cross between Meg Ryan (pre-bad Botox) and (younger, wiser) Demi Moore. Ha. But it gives me a confident air, and others do not visibly cringe in my presence.
And the new brush/gel approach is fantastic! Way to work through it :)
I like it!
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