I also figured I'd cut my hair a bit. It was long and
So, the before?
And the after?
I know, not too dramatic. But I'm one of those women that kind of needs to hide behind hair every now and then. But just get me to Texas and I'll be singin' the pixie-cut tune in no time, I'm sure. BUT ALSO. I'm not even sure I love it. You know why? Because, I really had intended to do something funky with the layers or length or bangs or SOMETHING. That is UNTIL a series of odd events happened that I took as nothing short of a sign from the God of Michael Bolton Hair (or, you know, something) to just get in and out of that place.
Anyway, FIRST, I got sat next to a woman who had a head of incredibly long, curly, THICK hair who was getting it cut. And she was crying, people. And YES, I realize that you're probably all, oh look who's talking you big CRY BABY!, but this was not like, oh-I'm-laughing-through-the-tears type thing. She had a box of friggin' tissues. And the hairdresser had to PAUSE for a moment.
So, yeah, there was that. It was awkward. Especially so when another client walked up and proclaimed, "WOW! She's getting A LOT cut off, huh?" The air went out of the room as we all waited for the head of the woman in the chair to explode.
NEXT, I'm chatting with my hairdresser about the weather. Because, yeah, I think we've covered my aptitude with social interaction. It went something like this:
Her: I remember when I lived at my parents' and my friend lived just down the road. He'd come over and plow me out so I wouldn't have to shovel!
Me: Oh, man, that's pretty awesome. I bet you miss that arrangement!
Her: Yeah, especially because he's dead.
Me: ["Jesus Christ!" No, that's not acceptable. How about "What the fuck?!" Nope, nope....uhmm...] Oh, wow. He passed away?
And then, FINALLY, there was the wardrobe malfunction of the hairstylist next to mine who kept bending over to check the that the length of the layers she'd cut were in alignment. (And APPARENTLY to give her nipple some air.)
What? I could see it in the mirror! If I kept my head straight and eyeballs tweaked all the way to one side, it was like I wasn't even looking! Mostly!
Yeah, I had to get out of there. I'll get a mullet next month, okay?