Darn sneaky hair-stylists.
My usual hair-stylist moved, and I have no idea where. When I went today to get a long-delayed hair-cut, there was suddenly a grocer's where his hair salon used to be. No warning, no "we’ve moved!" sign anywhere. So what was I to do?
I ended up going to a place where I'd had a hair-cut a couple of years ago, and where I remember being considerably satisfied with the result, even if they didn't offer student discounts... or "pretty girl" discounts, as my usual hair-stylist did (and yes, I have no objection to making use of "pretty girl" discounts. I'm a student, not a feminist, and if they are going to drop the price off anything, I'm not about to complain, no matter the motives. :P)
Well, it was pleasant (even if my wallet protested wildly at the price difference), considering they had air-conditioning and it was a remarkably hot day for Spring, plus the shampoo they used smelled kind of nice... but I'm still having my doubts about how my hair looks now. It’s very different from how I normally wear it.
In retrospective, I think my mistake might have been to tell this new hair-stylist that it'd been a while since I last had a hair cut and wanted it a bit shorter now... thus giving her free reign of the scissors.
I ended up with a lot less hair than I had originally intended, and I didn't even realize what was going on until it was too late to stop it. She was really sneaky about it... taking off little bits of hair at first, and not getting the really big chunks out until much later, when I'd been coaxed into a false sense of security. By the time she started doing this (making some slicing movements with the scissor that really made me fear for her reaction if I actually told her to stop) I had a lap full of hair and the floor looked like a hair graveyard.
All in all, it could have been worse. The fact that I now have less than half the amount of hair I had before setting foot there might prove comfortable now that the hotter days of the year are coming (since I live in the southern hemisphere), though the kind of hair-cut she gave me is exactly the kind that is really hard to gather up if I want my neck to enjoy the breeze.
What I really don't like is the fringe. I'm not used to fringes, and no matter what I told her, she still gave me one. I don't care if they are in fashion, I wear glasses, and so fringes are considerably uncomfortable when I have to keep brushing hair that insists on getting tangled in them when it's windy (or when I'm sitting under the ceiling fan at the uni).
Besides, this is the kind of hairdo that looks gorgeous when taken proper care of, but is faintly reminiscent of a horror movie if ignored. I may actually have to use the hair-styling cream my mom gave me.
The worst thing is that unless I manage to find out where the heck my hair-stylist ran off to, I may have to become a regular at that hair salon, since the alternative would be to brave yet another unknown hair-chopping entity and risk getting an ever worse hair-cut. Better the devil you know...
I ended up going to a place where I'd had a hair-cut a couple of years ago, and where I remember being considerably satisfied with the result, even if they didn't offer student discounts... or "pretty girl" discounts, as my usual hair-stylist did (and yes, I have no objection to making use of "pretty girl" discounts. I'm a student, not a feminist, and if they are going to drop the price off anything, I'm not about to complain, no matter the motives. :P)
Well, it was pleasant (even if my wallet protested wildly at the price difference), considering they had air-conditioning and it was a remarkably hot day for Spring, plus the shampoo they used smelled kind of nice... but I'm still having my doubts about how my hair looks now. It’s very different from how I normally wear it.
In retrospective, I think my mistake might have been to tell this new hair-stylist that it'd been a while since I last had a hair cut and wanted it a bit shorter now... thus giving her free reign of the scissors.
I ended up with a lot less hair than I had originally intended, and I didn't even realize what was going on until it was too late to stop it. She was really sneaky about it... taking off little bits of hair at first, and not getting the really big chunks out until much later, when I'd been coaxed into a false sense of security. By the time she started doing this (making some slicing movements with the scissor that really made me fear for her reaction if I actually told her to stop) I had a lap full of hair and the floor looked like a hair graveyard.
All in all, it could have been worse. The fact that I now have less than half the amount of hair I had before setting foot there might prove comfortable now that the hotter days of the year are coming (since I live in the southern hemisphere), though the kind of hair-cut she gave me is exactly the kind that is really hard to gather up if I want my neck to enjoy the breeze.
What I really don't like is the fringe. I'm not used to fringes, and no matter what I told her, she still gave me one. I don't care if they are in fashion, I wear glasses, and so fringes are considerably uncomfortable when I have to keep brushing hair that insists on getting tangled in them when it's windy (or when I'm sitting under the ceiling fan at the uni).
Besides, this is the kind of hairdo that looks gorgeous when taken proper care of, but is faintly reminiscent of a horror movie if ignored. I may actually have to use the hair-styling cream my mom gave me.
The worst thing is that unless I manage to find out where the heck my hair-stylist ran off to, I may have to become a regular at that hair salon, since the alternative would be to brave yet another unknown hair-chopping entity and risk getting an ever worse hair-cut. Better the devil you know...