I had my haircut today after months of just straight up avoiding it. It's the appointment making part I can't stand. I don't even know why. I do know I didn't want to go back to the woman who had cut my hair the last three times. She was uninterested and uninspired and therefore unworthy of my time. So, I let it grow. Not a great look for me, but I pretend to be doing it purposely. I stop washing it, shove it into unnatural angles, act like I'm punk or cool or anything other than what the truth is: I can't be bothered to go somewhere to get a haircut. My hair, currently anyway, is also bleached. I would say bleached 'blonde' but in fact it stayed a kind of brassy orange for the first couple months and now it's sorta blonde-ish. Along with not wanting to get a haircut, I didn't want to pay for a dye-job. So, a girlfriend did it for free. And I love it. It's pretty rough looking most days and I feel like it matches how I feel inside: A little crazy, disheveled, messy, far from fabulous, but doing it anyway.
I decided to go to a stylist that my sister-in-law went to. She has long, thick, lustrous, wavy brunette hair. Did I mention I have short, extremely thin (they call it 'fine', as in 'yeah, that's good enuf'), dry, straight bleached blonde hair? So, the exact opposite, but convinced this woman did such an amazing job on my s-i-l that she's gotta be skilled!
The appointment was in the evening and I rarely leave the house after 4pm, but I was excited and arrived to the appointment at 4:50, ten minutes early. Turns out, I arrived to the appointment an hour and a half early, it was booked for 6:30. After a loud explicative exhale, I excused myself and walked down the block to the classic Mexican restaurant to have a margarita and some chips. I love sitting at a bar by myself reading a good book and enjoying the snacks. All I had was my phone, which would do just fine, and soon a drink the size of my head, which would take any and all edges that I may have arrived with right off!
When 6:15 arrived, I walked back to the salon and sat in the chair, ready for the magic! This very young, very petite girl walked up, with sort of glazed eyes and said, 'wow, i'm really having a day!' Um, okay, I don't even want to ask how this will affect what comes next. And what came next was a bit of a surprise... she proceeded to tell me she'd never done a short haircut before. Um, okaaayyyyy.... It was then I really took a look around the salon and saw lots and lots of ladies with lots and lots of long, thick, lustrous, wavy brunette hair. Not one customer had short hair. Not one. When I mentioned this observation to my stylist she nodded and said, 'yeah' with a tone that implied I should have known that. And then told me when she got the message that someone 'requested a short cut' she wondered how the hell that happened and who could have possibly suggested HER as the stylist. I admitted that I assumed if she was great with one head of hair, she must be great all around! You should never assume, you know, the saying goes: 'you make an ass out of you and me'. She asked if I had any images of what I'd like and I told her I didn't and just hoped she might take some off the back, leave a little in the front, and just make me look COOL. That was my entire directive: make me look cool.
I closed my eyes until she whispered in my ear, "i'll be right back, i just need to go get a bandaid". She had sliced her finger with her new scissors. I wondered if there was blood in my 'blonde' hair, but didn't really care and figured she would cut it out when she returned.
She periodically asked me how it 'felt'. There was no mirror offered, other than the one in front of us, so I just kept saying it felt 'fine' and that I wasn't worried because it's just hair and hair grows back!
And when she finally finished, I loved it. We both loved it. She told me it was the most creative haircut she's ever given. I don't doubt it.
When I got home and got a better look at it, I told RK there appeared to be a few spots on the sides and in the back that were going to need a follow up from him and his scissors... but I'm just so happy to have had my hairs cut!
Here's to just going for it and sticking with it even when all signs point to : GTF outta there.