Master Cuts
Those of you who are particularly observant may have noticed that I got a haircut, as evidenced by the photos Leon posted a couple of entries back.
I'm not that happy with it--specifically, with my short, layered bangs. I told the stylist that I wanted my hair layered and sitting just above my shoulders. She asked if I wanted short or long layers, and I answered what I always answer in this case: by asking what she thought would look best. She told me that short layers would be best but, seeing my apprehension--the apprehension of a girl who has had way too many boy haircuts, unflattering layers, and mullets (I'm dead serious)--she told me that she'd give me long layers and possibly shorten them if I changed my mind.
Somehow I thought this would entail a warning, something like, "Okay, I've given you some long layers; why don't I snip a small piece and see if you want it shorter?" Instead, it was *snip, snip* and my bangs were too short to tuck behind my ears. I was not pleased, yet somehow allowed her to cut them more and use a curling iron on them. So feathered was my hair when I left that salon that I looked like Farrah Fawcett's twin. Her fat twin.
Also during this haircut, my stylist squirted a huge glob of shampoo in my ear and just left it there. When she went to get a volumizing gel from another room, I stuck my finger in my ear to retrieve a huge mass of Paul Mitchell, which I scraped onto my smock. A nearby stylist looked understandably disgusted by my actions.
My stylist also hit me on the head at least twice with the blow dryer and stuck her finger in my eye when she was combing out my bangs. And we're not talking about accidentally brushing up against it but actually jamming her pointer finger right up in my cornea. Or she would have, had my eyes not been closed.
But I think my favorite detail of this haircut was something I discovered later. The salon was in a mall, and I had been shopping for a couple of hours prior to getting my hair done. (It was actually Saturday, the day that Leon and I had our anniversary dinner, and a little clerk in Bath and Body Works sprayed no less than four products in my hair, causing me to think that a shampoo and blow dry were in order before our fancy meal.) So I had shopping bags--several of them, and I had put the smaller ones inside a mammoth Macy's bag.
Later when I was taking the smaller bags out of the larger bag to evaluate my purchases, I noticed that there were gobs and gobs of my hair in the shopping bag! This can't be blamed on the stylist since I'm the one who set my bags on the floor, but it was not at all what I was expecting to find when I opened up my pink Torrid bag. I actually took the masses of hair and tossed them into the trash can, which struck me as remarkably strange. Imagine: some woman with a mountain of shopping bags reaching into those bags and pulling out handfuls of hair and then throwing it in the garbage like it were a candy wrapper. You don't see that every day.
As of today, I kind of like my haircut. I think I've used enough products to keep it from looking too flat, which is generally the problem I have when I get such a layered look. Still, I'm looking forward to my hair growing out enough that I can tuck it behind my shampoo-filled ears.
I'm not that happy with it--specifically, with my short, layered bangs. I told the stylist that I wanted my hair layered and sitting just above my shoulders. She asked if I wanted short or long layers, and I answered what I always answer in this case: by asking what she thought would look best. She told me that short layers would be best but, seeing my apprehension--the apprehension of a girl who has had way too many boy haircuts, unflattering layers, and mullets (I'm dead serious)--she told me that she'd give me long layers and possibly shorten them if I changed my mind.
Somehow I thought this would entail a warning, something like, "Okay, I've given you some long layers; why don't I snip a small piece and see if you want it shorter?" Instead, it was *snip, snip* and my bangs were too short to tuck behind my ears. I was not pleased, yet somehow allowed her to cut them more and use a curling iron on them. So feathered was my hair when I left that salon that I looked like Farrah Fawcett's twin. Her fat twin.
Also during this haircut, my stylist squirted a huge glob of shampoo in my ear and just left it there. When she went to get a volumizing gel from another room, I stuck my finger in my ear to retrieve a huge mass of Paul Mitchell, which I scraped onto my smock. A nearby stylist looked understandably disgusted by my actions.
My stylist also hit me on the head at least twice with the blow dryer and stuck her finger in my eye when she was combing out my bangs. And we're not talking about accidentally brushing up against it but actually jamming her pointer finger right up in my cornea. Or she would have, had my eyes not been closed.
But I think my favorite detail of this haircut was something I discovered later. The salon was in a mall, and I had been shopping for a couple of hours prior to getting my hair done. (It was actually Saturday, the day that Leon and I had our anniversary dinner, and a little clerk in Bath and Body Works sprayed no less than four products in my hair, causing me to think that a shampoo and blow dry were in order before our fancy meal.) So I had shopping bags--several of them, and I had put the smaller ones inside a mammoth Macy's bag.
Later when I was taking the smaller bags out of the larger bag to evaluate my purchases, I noticed that there were gobs and gobs of my hair in the shopping bag! This can't be blamed on the stylist since I'm the one who set my bags on the floor, but it was not at all what I was expecting to find when I opened up my pink Torrid bag. I actually took the masses of hair and tossed them into the trash can, which struck me as remarkably strange. Imagine: some woman with a mountain of shopping bags reaching into those bags and pulling out handfuls of hair and then throwing it in the garbage like it were a candy wrapper. You don't see that every day.
As of today, I kind of like my haircut. I think I've used enough products to keep it from looking too flat, which is generally the problem I have when I get such a layered look. Still, I'm looking forward to my hair growing out enough that I can tuck it behind my shampoo-filled ears.