I don't get my hair cut at salons very often. Not because I've had any traumatic experiences... until yesterday, that is. See my hair in the photo above? Notice how long it looks? It's nearly down to the middle of my back.
Well, Matt was in need of a haircut, and my hair was badly in need of a trim to get rid of the split ends. I asked for two inches off. THAT'S TWO INCHES PEOPLE! What ended up happening? My hair was basically massacred.
Before I knew it, hair was flying and a LOT more than two inches was lopped off my head.
The hair stylist said I had such pretty hair...
--- SNIP SNIP ---
The hair stylist said I had a lot of hair...
--- SNIP SNIP ---
Why didn't I say anything?
Well, it's a bit intimidating to tell someone holding a pair or scissors and a razor in their hands to stop. Plus, I was trusting her to listen to what I told her at the beginning. I specifically said "only two inches". Obviously her idea of two inches is more like 2 + 2 + 2 = 2.
Yes, it's just hair. It's not the end of the world. And thankfully it will grow back before it is the end of the world (hopefully). But seriously, by the time I walked out of the salon, my hair looked like "The Rachel" - you know, Jennifer Aniston's famous Friends hairdo - only not nearly as glamorous. Not to mention the fact that I was never crazy about that do.
So now my hair barely pulls back into a ponytail, that's how short it is. And the hair that makes it into that ponytail is about 1/3 of what was there before. I have yet to take a photo of the mess and I'm not sure I want to.
Needless to say, I won't be going back to that salon for my next haircut.
More makeover madness photos to come tomorrow though. This time of the home reno kind.
