Let me start by saying, i love my hair.. like a lot. When I was little I would always look through those books at the salon and pick out a different hair style, and I would always end up in tears every time we left. My hair was too short, too choppy, too whatever, I always ended up hating it. A few years ago I cut my long hair up to my shoulders, I actually liked it for a while, but then decided it was time to grow it back out. So for the past few years I’ve been growing my luscious locks back out.
With the move to the new apartment/town, I figured that I should probably find a salon here in town where I could get my hairs trimmed. I picked one out and ventured over there this morning. I made my appointment for 11 AM, it was the earliest that I could get in. I got there a little early with yesterday’s ponytail, assuming that I would get a full wash, cut and style. I mean that’s the point, right?
I was plopped into the stylist’s chair almost immediately upon walking inside. I thought it was kind of weird that she didn’t take me to the sink, but I thought maybe since it was my first time she wanted to see what I wanted done first. Well, you know what they say about when you assume. I told her I just wanted my ends trimmed and showed her the photo I’d brought for how I wanted my bangs to look.
Without washing my hair, she started snipping at my ends. I’m not really sure that she even cut anything off of them. Then, only after squirting my bangs with a water spritzer, I thought they only used those for little kid’s or men’s hair, she whacked off the front of my hair. She commented on how my hair was actually naturally curly, and said it was a good thing she hadn’t sprayed the rest of my hair before cutting it. Say what?! Even when I was little, my hair was never cut when it was dry. Aren’t you supposed to cut hair when it’s wet?? After hacking my bangs, she dried them, flat ironed them flat to my forehead and asked me if I wanted her to straighten the rest of my
greasy, from yesterday hair. I looked at her and said no. She asked if I wanted some spray my bangs, since I was moving them around. I looked at her and said, no, hopefully I can try to make them go…right. I paid her, didn’t leave a tip, and walked out of the “salon” as quickly as possible, only to burst into tears once I reached the safety of my car. And, of course, called my mom.
I went home, washed my hair, straightened it and cried some more. The picture I posted does not even come relatively close to showing how badly these look. When my sister’s boyfriend came over, he took one look at my hair and his face said it all. Awful.
But what has this taught me? I should have asked why she wasn’t washing my hair. And probably not paid her. Or maybe just gotten up and left before she could have taken scissors to my locks like a three year old. I guess I’ll be wearing a headband for a while.
Maybe we all need to be a little more assertive in every part of our lives in order to get what we truly want. We’re the ones who have to live with the consequences if we don’t speak up. So, my hair will grow back, but sometimes it’s not that simple.