Monday, June 28, 2010

Brought To You By The Letter Q






A few months ago, I cut several inches off my hair.

Many, many inches.

It was time. I figured if I hated it, it'll grow back. This was inconceivable just a few years ago. I spent most of my life with long hair, and suffered under the delusion that if I cut it, it might never grow again. Or I might die from lack of follicle. Crazy shit like that.

Anyway.

Six inches less later....and I loved it. It felt liberating. So at the next appointment, I had a few more inches knocked off.

I shouldn't have tempted fate.

My hairstylist/hairdresser/hairartist - whatever they're called these days, is great. Really. This is the only salon I've stayed with for more than two years, and I've been completely happy the entire time.

Until now.

I decided to go with one of those neat angled bobs - short in the back, long in the front. The Anti-Mullet.

She cut, dried and straightened my hair. It looked great. Then she used the thinning shears. Who knows why - I thought it looked fine. Afterwards it just looked...wrong.

Stupidly, I figured I needed to style it myself, and it would be fine. Don't we ladies always do that? We convince ourselves it'll be fine once we “fix it” at home.

Um...no.

The full impact didn't hit til I tried to do my hair the next day. Somehow, the angle was lost, and it looked like a standard, straight bob, except for two looooong chunks on either side of my face. They swooped out from my head like tentacles.

From the side, I looked like the letter Q.

I went back in for an emergency appointment, with the excuse I was apparently too hair-challenged to style it like that everyday, and asked if she could just even it up. Which, of course, the only way to fix that is to remove more hair.

So yeah. It's short. It's also pretty. I'm mature enough to handle the new look and still feel damn good about myself.

Still, I think the experiment is over.

It'll grow back.


4 comments:

John said...

Back when I had long hair, I got the worst haircut of my life, which was immortalized in my senior picture.

I liked having my hair all one length - no sissy layers for me. I was getting my picture taken and I wanted to get my hair cleaned up a little bit. I went my mom's hairdresser - hey, if you can't trust your mom, who can you trust?

She worked at one of those chain hair salons, which should've raised a red flag right there. The place was empty, too, which should've made me run away with extreme prejudice.

But I stayed, and the hairdresser, who from this point on will be referred to All That Is Unholy (ATIU), proceeded to chop my hair with reckless abandon, severely layering it and leaving me with some 80s feathery piece of crap hairstyle.

I was furious. My top layer, which used to come down to my shoulder because I had NO LAYERS, was only about 2 inches long. My hair stuck to my head in a most unattractive way. I had to go to school the next day and endure comments like "what happened to your hair?" And if that wasn't bad enough, I had to go get my senior picture taken.

It was so traumatic that I didn't get my hair cut again for almost two years.

Jen said...

Oh man, if that was me, I'd be so pissed. I hate it when hairdressers completely ignore your requests. I had that happen once years ago, I came out looking like Jon Bon Jovi circa 1987. Which would be fine, except I'm a girl. Heh.

Spokey said...

I'm going the other way. I've had relatively short hair since I chopped the pony tail in 2006 to run for a local public office.

It's part of keeping the same amount. As it disappears in front, I'm letting it get longer in the back.

But my hair grows so slowly that it will take years.

Jen said...

It's gonna take me years to get mine back....oh well!