Ok, not really.
But some of you may recall my trials and tribulations as I attempted to grow out my formerly pixie haircut. As anyone who has grown out a shortshortshort hairstyle can attest, it went through a very pelt-like helmet stage.
And then, it was just fine. I was making progress. I felt like I had options. My hair was the one thing going right in my world in the month of October. But then it started to feel like late 80s Bon Jovi. When really, it looked like late 90s Bon Jovi.
And one day, in my quest to not sit alone on my couch and sob, I sat on a couch and read magazines at a salon while Alice got her hair colored. She and I have both been going to the same salon for a few months, and our insane stylist is, well, insane. She dazzles us with stories of her porn star roommate. And when asked about the then-upcoming election, she laughed, “Oh, honey, I can’t vote – I’m a felon!”
So, Crazy Stylist and Alice – with the help of reading beauty magazines for three hours – convinced me that I should make an appointment and get the mulletasticness cut off and just clean up the rest. The growing out was going fine, I just needed to clean up the edges to keep it presentable. Oh, and go for a chocolate color to winterize my light brown hair.
I went back four days later. Crazy Stylist looked at my hair, then announced that I needed strawberry highlights in lieu of chocolate because I have strawberry tones anyway, and it would be easier to maintain.
So I sat with foil on my head and read magazines for an hour. And then she washed my hair, and started cutting.
Now, I have very, very thick hair, so even if I’m just getting a trim, it seems like there’s a whole lot of cutting going on.
There was a whole lot of cutting going on. A whole lot.
Finally, I was like, “Umm, how much are you cutting? You know I’m growing it out?”
Crazy Stylist laughed. “Not anymore! I love it when girls come in after bad break-ups, because they are up for anything! Cut that man right outta my hair!”
I was shell shocked. My hair was back to its pelt stage!
I went home and sobbed. Just because I could. I knew that it was actually a cute haircut, but, well, I was directing my emotion about other things onto my not-what-I-expected hair.
It’s since grown out a bit, and actually looks pretty good. The back needs to be cleaned up again. I think I’m going to aim for a very short, tucked-behind-the-ears sort of bob. Because if Linda Evangelista can pull this off, then obviously it will also be a good look for me.
It’s good to have goals.