Wistful Thinking

A few weeks ago Amy posted about her unsuccessful haircut experiences. I understand. I've had several bad cuts in my life. In kindergarten my mom decided to save money and cut it herself . . . and I ended up looking like a hick-child with a mullet. She took me to the hair stylist after school pictures were taken . . . so I have a great photo to remind me not to be as frugal with my kids. The next very bad haircut (I've had many more than this, but these are definitely the worst) happened the day before my senior pictures . . . I left the salon with feathered chunky hair and now have senior pictures that I'd prefer no one see.

I've been craving a haircut for several weeks now. It's been a good two months since my last one, and my hair has been driving me crazy. For the last year, I've been growing it out long...but recently, I got the urge to cut it short again . . . and so I've been looking forward to this salon visit. When I arrived, it was lunch time. That should have been a clue that I was in trouble. There was only one stylist there, and she sounded tired, like she just needed a long lunch break away from scissors and customers. I'd decided to go to a new salon, the one in Wal-Mart (that should have been my next clue that something might be wrong), so that Josh could also get the oil changed in our car at the same time. He dropped me off; I walked in, picked up a magazine and read an article about getting the right cut and style from your salon. Perfect timing, I thought. Apparently the key is in the initial communication between you and the stylist, before she takes the scissors in her hands. The article told me a picture would help the stylist better understand my needs . . . and lucky for me--I'd brought a picture--four, in fact, showing exactly the style I wanted (one I'd had back in the summer of 2005)...the short, layered, flippy kind . . . a little longer in back, with long side bangs that frame my face . . . something my brother would be proud of and compliment me on. I'd even made sure that Josh still liked that hairstyle before leaving home today.

I shouldn't have bothered. The stylist took a look at the cut in the picture, told me her version of it ("one chop at the chin and another at the ears"), and started whacking. I've never had such a fast cut. She asked me about the bangs . . . I told her that I get annoyed when my bangs brush my nose . . . and so she whacked some more until I had a straight line of bangs above my eyebrows . . . the cut ended within 5 minutes . . . she blew it dry, and when I looked in the mirror for the final once-over, I saw a combination of poof and short mullet . . . a triple combination of June Cleaver, Lucille Ball and Betty Rubble staring back at me. My new hairstyle makes me look like I'm in my forties or fifties. (The goal was summer-flippy-fun-young cut, not this!).

Josh didn't comment too much in the salon except to say, "I have to get used to it." Later, in Subway, the truth came out (which I completely agree with): "You look like you're from another decade." Thanks, Honey. He has been really great . . . tonight he sat down with all of my styling gels, sprays and mousses, my hairdryer, curling irons and straightener to try and create a style that would put me back into this century . . . his attempts were valiant, but I don't think he's going to want to do my hair every morning. He did say he'd still walk with me in public, and he offered me his baseball cap to wear for the next few months. I'm so grateful!

I guess I thought that as I age, bad haircuts would become a distant memory. Now, I only wish I could explain to anyone I pass that my hair isn't supposed to be this way...and even though it will grow out, I still have to live with it for the next few weeks until that happens. Needless to say, I miss Kathleen, our stylist in Marion, and it's time to find a new salon up here. (I've added these classy cuts to the blog to give you some uplifting humor . . . definitely at my expense . . . #1: Kindergarten frugal cut #2: Senior Pic #3: Two weeks ago #4: Tonight, after some major depoofing by my husband. . . hopefully I'll be able to laugh about this most recent cut in a few days!)