November 02, 2013

Mugged Again

Recently I woke up from 8 weeks of first trimester hibernation feeling decidedly frumpy.  I hadn't done my nails in months.  I only shaved because I had doctor appointments and I wanted to avoid rumors of Sasquatch sightings in the medical community.  And I hadn't had a haircut in 14 weeks.  My hair had grown out of its style and was past my shoulders.  Tree Guy told me I looked like a hippie.  And not the cute kind of hippie.

Like her.  Except I pluck my chin hair.

If you've been here awhile, you know all about my haircut issues.  About how the secret underground sorority of hairstylists has a vendetta against me.  How they've all apparently taken a blood oath to royally screw up my hair every time I dare to place my round rump in their chairs.  How they've included Nature Boy in their grudge.  

For the past year, Shrinky Dink (my artist/therapist pal) has cut my hair.  She isn't actually a hairstylist.  Which is probably why she does such a good job.  She's not bound by the pact!

Anyhoo, I woke up yesterday thinking, I must get my groove back!  I need to see some semblance of myself when I look in the mirror!

But Shrinky Dink's out of town.

So I stupidly went to a chain salon for a haircut last night.  And not just any chain salon.  The fancy one.  Inside Walmart.  Yeah.  Because hey, it was 8PM and I needed groceries anyway.

You know how you walk into a salon you've never been to before and immediately eye the stylist with the best hair in the place, hoping she'll be the one cutting your hair?  And instead you get a 15 year old with a buzz cut?

I should've run when the stylist I got suggested an asymmetrical cut.  I let her know then and there that I'm totally OCD about symmetry and if I had an asymmetrical haircut, I'd walk with my head leaning to the longer side because it would just feel that weird

I told her I wanted an inverted bob that falls right at shoulder length at its longest part.  And that's what she gave me.

On one side.

I asked her twice to check for evenness.  She did.  But when I got home, I realized my hair looked something like this (without the awesome color and styling).

WTF hairstylists?!  Is it really that hard to listen to what a client wants and give her that?  Most 6-year-olds can cut a straight line!

So I brought my groceries in and busted out the scissors.  I spent an hour trimming the hair on my right side to line up more evenly with the left side.  It's not easy cutting your own hair when it's curly.  WHICH IS WHY CURLY-HAIRED PEOPLE GO TO PROFESSIONALS!

Now you might be thinking to yourself, Danielle, it's your fault for going to a cheap Walmart salon!  I'll give you that.  But I have to add that I've gone to fancy salons and paid a lot more for shitty haircuts too.  It doesn't seem to matter where I go or how much I pay.  Hence my vendetta theory.

Since Shrinky Dink is a therapist, she understands OCD neuroses, and she's willing (for the 4334345th time) to fix a hairstylist's mistake when she gets back in town.

Until then, I'll be the one walking with her head slightly tilted to the right.