To talk of many things
Of dye and bangs and tendril-fly
Of Farrah Fawcett wings
Lovely lady-mullet length
And neck-nape collar clings
Yep. I had to do it. Had to succumb to my second haircut since Stay-At-Home-Down. You know how I hate a haircut. But even more, I hate spitting strands of stringy hair out of my mouth when I can't touch my face until a good handwashing.
I colored it at home, thanks to L'Oreal and The Pony. He picked up hair color for me, from my list a while back, since he's bearing the Devil's Playground load. Unfortunately, I did not realize that I'd forgotten to list ASH in the name of the hue. Medium ASH Brown. So now I look like somebody dunked my head in melted dark chocolate. Mmm... dark chocolate.
That's not too bad. It will fade. But it won't shrink. So I checked in on my Terrible Cuts app while sitting in front of the School-Turn Casey's, and saw that only one person was ahead of me, and there was a 6-minute wait. By the time I got to their parking lot, my wait was 0 minutes. I grabbed my St. Louis Blues mask, and hoofed it inside. They won't let anyone in without a mask, you know. Though I'd like to see two hairdressers trying to strong-arm a strong man out of there.
No such excitement was to be had. A lady sat in the waiting chairs. I saw her name below mine on the list. Sucks to be beaten out by a tap of the finger, huh? The gal took me right back.
Here's the thing. My Terrible Cutter was the sister of one of The Pony's high school cronies. I've had her before. As I said this morning, coming out of the bathroom after a shower and subsequent haircombing,
"Every time she cuts my hair, I marvel at how she can do a worse job each time!"
Seriously. I wish I'd had my Janice Dickinson (the world's first self-proclaimed supermodel) lookalike cut my hair. But no. She was cutting the hair of some bald old man. She's really good, Faux Janice. Or else she's good at pretending she's cutting hair on a bald man. Probably good tips in that.
Anyhoo... Terrible Cutter LOOKED like she was doing a good job. She took 2-3 inches off the back. She cut the bangs even with my eyebrows. She put in layers. She made small talk about people we know. Then she released me. I gave her a tip. Then I headed home.
WHERE I WAS SHOCKED TO SEE THE LEFT SIDE LONGER THAN THE RIGHT!
And... the front part, by my face, was too long. It seemed longer than the back. My first clue should have been when I walked outside the shop, and the wind immediately blew tendrils into my mouth. That was what I'd just gotten it cut for!!!
Really. Faux Janice gives me the best haircuts. Not quite terrible. Then again, she's an old lady just like me. Maybe Terrible Cutter was trying to be all artsy about it, with her young whippersnapper ways. I may hack at it myself in a day or two.
After my casino trip.
Right when the wind blew tendrils into your mouth is when you should have spun on your heels and marched right back in there to get it fixed. this sort of thing is why I no longer get my hair cut. it's long, so I comb it out, tie it back, job's done for the day.
ReplyDeleteRiver,
ReplyDeleteYou are right, but I was so relieved to be free of that chair, having ripped off my mask to feel the wind on my face, that I doubt Farmer H could have marched me back in at (one-of-his-many)gun(s) point.
I would have been tempted to say, "Oh, I forgot my wallet in my car. I'll be right back." And then I would have waited until another person went in, so the horrrible haircutter and former student would be occupied...
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteIf only I could think so fast on my feet! Because really, how long could it have taken Faux Janice to finish up with the bald guy? She would have probably given him the boot as soon as she was that I WAS STILL AVAILABLE! She knows I tip.
Just do it yourself! I did. No one here will make fun of it, they are all scared of me. I let the color go and now I see that I am gray, very gray. Maybe after Covid is no longer deadly I will spend an afternoon at the salon and come out a new woman.
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteI cut the front all the time. That's how I've only gone to Terrible Cuts twice this year. It's the back that's the problem. I can't do it! It's hard enough clipping my bangs in the mirror, trying to fit the strands between the scissor blades without poking my eyes out. I sure won't let Farmer H or The Pony behind me with scissors!
I won't let the color go completely. I would have been white-haired at 30 if I didn't dye. It was a good look on my grandma's Glamour Shot photos, but at 30, not so much! Having seen two colleagues alternate between color, and then letting it go for a couple years... I do not wish to age my appearance 20 years if I can rely on chemicals!