Before I went back to work, I had my shoulder length hair cut shorter, to facilitate quick morning prep. My hair long is thick and takes a long time to dry. And then still needs some kind of intervention with a curling iron, straight iron or round brush blow out to tame the irregular waves and keep the ends from looking fuzzy. I hate showering the night before; I need a shower to wake up in the morning, plus I have even less patience for doing my hair in the evening. It ends up all crinkly and bad if I let it air dry. So…short hair. I’ve had it before and liked it, so I decided to go back to a similar style.
I’ve been going to the same woman for at least the last five years now (except for one disastrous bit of adultery when she was on her first maternity leave-a sin for which I paid dearly…). When I first started going to her, she worked at the ultra hip yuppie salon that was only hair, no spa or nail services, strictly excellent cut and color. Even when we moved half an hour to the north, I would make the drive back down to the old neighborhood for hair appointments. And then she went out on maternity, and I decided to grow my hair out so I started going to the salon around the corner from my house for quick trims.
But as I do, I got bored with the grow out and decide to go short again. With an untested hair dresser. The result was extremely short, and very unflattering. Luckily, while I was in the process of growing that out, I ran into my old hairdresser and found out that she was at a new salon. She was able to shape up the disaster hair so that it looked better in the short term and grew out well. And so we continued on together for many happy years, alternating long and short, layered and not layered, bangs and no bangs as it struck our fancy.
When I went in for my first cut after Squidge was born, I brought with me pictures of myself with one of the short cuts that she had given me. The style could be all flippy and piecey, or I could use a round brush to make it smooth and turned under. I brought pictures of both, one taken one day and another the next, so I know it was two cuts in one. She barely glanced at the pictures, and gave me basically a chin length layered bob that could go either way. It was a little longer and less styley than before but the basics were thare so I let is slide.
But inevitably, it started bugging me as it grew out, looking worse and worse and requiring more fiddling, so I went back to the salon with the same pix in tow last week. While I was waiting, I found a cut in a book that showed a little bit better what I was looking for so I asked for that, just not quite a short on top. Again, she barely glanced at it and then went to town on my head.
Right now, she is pregnant with her third child and I think she has just given up entirely trying to do good hair. When she was done, and I examined the pieces framing my face, I had to point out that there was significantly more hair on one side than the other. And then I found several long hairs that had been left completely uncut by the razor sticking out randomly around my head.
It looks soo soo bad and I hate it with a passion. Right now, it is three bad haircuts in one: I can do it flippy and it looks all frayed like I was set upon by bandits armed with weed whackers; I can do it smoothed under and have the Dorothy Hamill, or I can try to work with my natural wave, scrunching it so that it is both flippy and partly turned under for two bad looks in one.
Gah. It’s been a week and I don’t feel any better about it and haven’t found a way to style it to make it work. I’m extremely tempted to have someone else take a run at it, but I don’t know anyone and am worried it will make it worse. Especially considering there’s not a lot of hair to work with.
I’m keeping my eyes peeled when out and about for someone with a short haircut that I like so I can ask them where they get it done. This alone should tell you how desperately I hate this haircut. I do NOT talk to strangers. When strangers talk to me they generally get a smile and polite reply, and then I busy myself elsewhere to avoid being drawn into conversations. I’m that person on the seat next to you on the plane wearing my headphones with my nose buried in my book, refusing to make eye contact. So for me to say “Excuse me, I really like your hair, who does it?” to a total stranger unprompted is a big deal.
I hope to god I find somebody to accost soon.