Last week I made a hair appointment at a local ‘salon’. It was going to be my first haircut by someone other than my regular stylist, Dawna, in years. I was nervous, but had no other option. I needed it to be quick and Dawna is not only downtown, but has recently relocated to another salon and I wasn’t ready to drive all the way there.
I should have. She destroyed my hair. The cut is horrendous.
I’ve only had two other really bad haircuts before. Both were mullets. The first was when I was in grade 3. I actually asked for the mullet because I thought that’s what the ‘feathered’ style was. The hairdresser followed my orders and shouldn’t have. Who listens to an 8-year old, anyway?
The second time was a walk-in when I was living in Virginia. They tried to be too stylish and cut too much off on the sides. I was feeling unsure about it, but when I went out to a movie with a friend that night he took one look at me and said “Ummmm…you have a mullet. Was that on purpose?” I don’t actually remember what movie we were there to see…I can only remember sitting there in a panic about how the hair dilemma could be resolved. Go shorter? Patiently grow it out? No pictures exist of that time in my life.
Fast forward to today. I end up with a horrible haircut (not quite a mullet, but closer than I wanted to come) and absolutely no time to work on making it look better. Excellent.
Options this time? Go shorter? Grow it out? No, I’ll just hide in the house. Thank God it’s wintertime.
Grow, hair, grow!