A good hair stylist is important
I've had all sorts of hairstyles. Mostly because my hair grows like a chia pet so I am not squeamish when it comes to lopping off my locks. I never intended on getting a pixie cut. It happened as a matter of saving myself from embarrassment in high school. I remain perplexed with this whole ordeal because the woman who cut my hair was in her early 20s and über cool. She was pretty, blonde, and trendy. This hair cut came as a shock.
I showed her a few pictures of something that was a little shorter in the back with some length on top. Well, I think she misheard me because her idea of length on the top was a a big teased old lady muff on top of my head with these big round curls, thick bangs, cropped sides with those pointy side burn things that make you look like a vampire, and a shorn back. But here's the kicker, she left me a 2 inch wispy fringe along the back of my neck. Honestly. I couldn't even make this up if I tried. I looked like I was from the real housewives of recently divorced Dallas castoff members of the 80s. It was like a thin veil of hair to protect my neck, or make it look like I had long hair in the back. It was the closest thing I've had to a mullet in my life. I guess that's how mullets happen, some young pretty hairstylist tells you it's cool and you believe them and sport business in the front, party in the back for years without knowing you have a mullet.
She showed me in a mirror what she had done and I was literally speechless. I was silent, I can't believe I paid for it. I left and I was beyond tears, I was laugh/crying. Which, looking back now was probably a form of shock or hysterics. Either way I couldn't show my face at to any of my friends so I ran home in search of help. I found my brother and asked him what to do. He had been cutting and bleaching his own hair for years. We immediately wet it to get the height down and take some of the hairspray out of it. I told him that he had to do something about my thin wide rat tail that tickled my lower neck. We were both laughing so hard at this point, he almost didn't want to cut it to be able to show someone else this awful style. It took some convincing for him to actually cut that off. Once we started there was no turning back.
By the time my mom got home from work I was sporting a pixie cut and a smile. I don't think she was happy. I was the only girl in my family that was ever allowed long hair. My older sisters all had bowl cuts and my mom let my hair grow long. My mom never said anything bad about my short hair, and I loved how temporary it was, I could dye it a different colour every month, and I did.
Eventually I grew it out really long, and then slowly made it back to a very short 'do. I've grown it out and cut it several times since then, but that brings me back to the lesson at hand, a good hair stylist is important. Do not judge a book by it's cover, even though that 20 something stylist looked cool and had nice hair, it didn't mean that she knew what she was doing. I wonder if someone put her up to that hair cut, it was that bad. It was hilariously bad. It's times like these I wish I had taken a picture.
That's all.
I showed her a few pictures of something that was a little shorter in the back with some length on top. Well, I think she misheard me because her idea of length on the top was a a big teased old lady muff on top of my head with these big round curls, thick bangs, cropped sides with those pointy side burn things that make you look like a vampire, and a shorn back. But here's the kicker, she left me a 2 inch wispy fringe along the back of my neck. Honestly. I couldn't even make this up if I tried. I looked like I was from the real housewives of recently divorced Dallas castoff members of the 80s. It was like a thin veil of hair to protect my neck, or make it look like I had long hair in the back. It was the closest thing I've had to a mullet in my life. I guess that's how mullets happen, some young pretty hairstylist tells you it's cool and you believe them and sport business in the front, party in the back for years without knowing you have a mullet.
She showed me in a mirror what she had done and I was literally speechless. I was silent, I can't believe I paid for it. I left and I was beyond tears, I was laugh/crying. Which, looking back now was probably a form of shock or hysterics. Either way I couldn't show my face at to any of my friends so I ran home in search of help. I found my brother and asked him what to do. He had been cutting and bleaching his own hair for years. We immediately wet it to get the height down and take some of the hairspray out of it. I told him that he had to do something about my thin wide rat tail that tickled my lower neck. We were both laughing so hard at this point, he almost didn't want to cut it to be able to show someone else this awful style. It took some convincing for him to actually cut that off. Once we started there was no turning back.
By the time my mom got home from work I was sporting a pixie cut and a smile. I don't think she was happy. I was the only girl in my family that was ever allowed long hair. My older sisters all had bowl cuts and my mom let my hair grow long. My mom never said anything bad about my short hair, and I loved how temporary it was, I could dye it a different colour every month, and I did.
Eventually I grew it out really long, and then slowly made it back to a very short 'do. I've grown it out and cut it several times since then, but that brings me back to the lesson at hand, a good hair stylist is important. Do not judge a book by it's cover, even though that 20 something stylist looked cool and had nice hair, it didn't mean that she knew what she was doing. I wonder if someone put her up to that hair cut, it was that bad. It was hilariously bad. It's times like these I wish I had taken a picture.
That's all.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDelete