I went and got a haircut today.  It was a spontaneous decision made by calling the salon my mother uses and asking if anyone was available - and three minutes later I was in the car and on my way to meet Devon, who has been with the salon for five years.  That's what the woman told me when I called - the longer their tenure, the higher their fee.  Five years is a reasonably priced stylist.

He took a look at everything and asked me on a scale of one to ten, how different did I want to look walking out of the salon?

I said about a six or seven, assuming that different would be better.

Devon wanted to talk, and I really didn't feel chatty, but whatever.

So, I told him at the outset, I wear it curly and don't spend much time on it.

And he told me he was going to style it straight.

What that means is:

"I'm going to do the exact opposite of what you always do to in an attempt to stay in my own comfort zone.  You won't recognize yourself, and if you hate it, you won't be able to tell until later, after you've messed it up and and washed it and spent a shit ton of money on product that you won't use, and a few barrettes that won't wont get used and won't work on this style.  You'll curse yourself for days and look back at pictures and wonder what the fuck you were thinking.  Or not.  Because you may get home and mess it up and it will be perfect.   But probably not.  Do you own a straightening iron?  Do you have a hair dryer?  Are you going to spend a lot of time each morning fixing it?  Because if you don't, you're never going to look like the pictures of Jennifer Aniston and Nicole Richie that I shared with you to show you what a long bob looks like.  With lots of layers.  Which will take for fucking ever to grow out.  Just like the last time you pulled this stunt.  And in the interim, it's going to look like an inverted cabbage.  On top of a mullet."

And because I want to look like these celebs, I just smile and nod.  And he gives me this stick straight hair with tons of layers, using this "really cool technique".

And he does it, and it looks like it's going to work, and he flat irons the living hell out of it, and shines it up, and it looks nice, but it's not me.

And then I get in the car and panic and consider stopping at the store for product, and I get home and throw a bunch of water on it, and scrunch and stress, and freak out and contemplate cutting off the part that won't curl.

And then, I try to decide if I look more Bee Gees or Planet of the Apes, or Afro American Carol Brady.

And this, this is why I shouldn't get my hair cut.  Or ever use the photos of a celebrity to pretend that I'm going to look like a cast member of Friends.  Or, the extremely anorexic daughter of the front man for the Commodores.

So, that's my hair-raising tale.

Hello, is it me you're looking for?


PS - My BFF Connie commiserated by saying, "Yeah, I love throwing money at strangers who makes me look worse than when I walked in."  She likes the hair though.  She may have just been being nice.  It's really fine. 


It actually does look really cute in that pic. I hope it grows on you (literally and figuratively).