Haircut Gone Bad

I cannot bring myself to post a picture of myself. I've needed a haircut for some time now, but I couldn't decide whether or not to spend the $45 on one with someone I know is a really good stylist or go to the Hair Cuttery. My neighbor went to the Hair Cuttery and found someone she really likes who is also willing to take appointments, they were just on days of this week that I was not available. So, I decided just to give it a try.

When I first entered, it looked interesting. I'll leave it at that. There is a Hair Cuttery near my house, but it's very dark, always busy and there is quite an odd mixture of men and women who work there. This time, I decided to try the Hair Cuttery in a different part of the county that's a little more upscale, forgetting of course that people who live there would never be caught dead at a Hair Cuttery. Unless they are older, younger or have a stylist they actually like. She was totally booked.... for weeks!

I arrived and was instructed to put my own name in the system. Clearly, I was a newbie! Since there were three "stylists" and three customers getting cuts and three in the waiting room, I was thinking I'd be there for a while. Wrong! Soon after, some other odd looking characters arrived. I soon realized they actually worked there! I then became nervous - and rightly so. One of them, who was quite large, wiry gray hair and was wheezing from her last smoke stepped up to the computer screen. She squinted her eyes and read off a couple names, both of whom were waiting for a specific hair dresser. I should have known, but instead I sat there naively. Then, she called my name. I looked around - wasn't there anyone else who should have been before me? They all smiled and shook their heads - nope! I was the lucky customer.

We head over to this woman's chair, I'm still skeptical that this woman can actually be a hair dresser. Even the other hair dressers are watching her out of the corner of their eyes. She then asks me in her raspy, nicotine smelling voice, "What are we doing here today?" Of course, I was wondering the exact same thing. What in the world was I doing there?? That in mind, I begin to explain to her in very simple terms what I want - inch off the bottom, some long layers (which despite the fact that she "wasn't seein em" they were there!), some more bangs and shaping around the face. The last one - she gave me the most puzzled look. At that point, I should have high-tailed it out of there!

Instead, I allowed her to direct me to a sink. She proceeded to wash my hair, never actually looking at me but instead at all the people who were arriving. When she spotted one she knew, she said this to me, "Are you comfortable? Good, because I'm going to leave you here for a minute." She left me there, conditioner in my hair, so she could go chat with someone. She then returned to finish the job and I realized she looked exactly like Nanny McPhee in the beginning of that movie! Yikes! Of course, she was double her size.

Not to be completely rude or disgusted, I engaged in as much small talk as this woman would endure. Did I have kids? Yes, two in kindergarten and first grade. Did she? No. OK, Did I have a job? Not really. Would I like to buy the double sized double package of shampoo that she uses regularly? Not by a long shot, if it meant my hair would begin to look like hers! YIKES again! At this point, she informed me that she would be unable to cut my hair the way I'd requested, it would just look too "stringy". Instead, she took the one comb she owned and one pair of scissors and literally cut around the bottom of my hair. For real. No clips, no checking to see if both sides were even, no combing through to make sure she had not missed a long strand. Just chop, chop and I'm done.

She finished off by totally layering bangs I'd spent years growing out. She then sprayed something in my hair, blew it all dry with her one brush and did something I have not even done since I was in college - she used a curling iron on my bangs! After that, and mind you, my hair was looking seriously like I'd stuck a finger in a socket, she asked me if I wanted hair spray. I should have run, but instead I said, "Sure! I can't live without my hairspray!" She almost died (literally) laughing, and sprayed my hair sticking out horizontally on either side. Even running my fingers through it thousands of times once I was out of sight didn't help!

Now that I'm home (I mean, I wasn't going anywhere after that!), I should have hopped in the shower to see what I could salvage of my hair. Instead, I'm writing about it and laughing at the same time. I don't think I'll be returning to that Hair Cuttery - too many scary memories. I'm feeling like some things in life just are worth a little extra. Hair happens to be one of those things. I'm so glad it all grows back!