I was going to write about Comment Likes, and whether bloggers are for or against this WordPress trend. Instead, I decided to write about my recent haircut while snacking on Reese’s peanut butter cups.
The other day, I had my “once a year” haircut.
I’ve been going to Deena for two years now and was looking forward to getting pampered. Prior to meeting her, I was a stylist hopper.
I never stayed with the same stylist for more than six months.
But me and Deena, we’ve shared many firsts together.
Blonde highlights, brown lowlights, and of course, the popular ombre. We also had the pleasure of overlapping pregnancies together. Guess you could say we’ve formed a bond.
This last visit was different. For some reason, I felt nervous.
I asked her to clean up my layers. Nothing choppy or short. She knows I don’t do short. She’s a good listener and I usually feel safe in her hands.
Before Deena started cutting my hair, she asked:
“Would you like some Malbec?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“I sure do,” she smiled.
Deena returned with two glasses. Things started to take a turn.
She finished the blow dry, then began dry cutting my bangs. I didn’t stop her. I let Deena work her magic. When she put down the scissors, I took a quick look in the mirror, hopped out of the chair, hugged my buddy goodbye and headed home.
Everything seemed cool.
Until I realized my bangs were short. And crooked. Doesn’t look so bad at first glance. Come closer . . . See that? My bangs (right side) are three inches longer than the left side.
Yeah, I thought it was funny, too. But only after the initial shock wore off. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder why things had gone awry.
Did Deena cut my hair this way because I was the last client of the day and we both drank more wine than we should’ve? Maybe. Did she do it on purpose? No. I refused to believe that she did it on purpose. Deena was too nice. Too caring.
How I miss my same length bangs.
In an odd way, I feel that my hair represents me. It’s an extension of who I am. Free-spirited. Flexible. Operating in shades of grey, never in black and white. The tangles, the frizz, the spit up, the throw up. Sweat. Tears. My hair catches the best and the worst of me.
I’ll have a good hair day again. It will just take 358 days to get there.
Have you experienced a BAD haircut? How often do you cut your hair?