I decided that it was time to get my haircut. It’s officially hot here and my hair is so long. Like when I say hot, I mean I need to take multiple showers a day hot. It’s just so hot that sometimes I don’t even want to walk to my mailbox to check the mail. It’s so hot that when I did go check the mailbox the other day I decided it was just too hot to grab ALL the mail, so I just got one piece of mail. When my husband inquired as to if the mail arrived in separate pieces that day, all I could come up with was, “It was just too hot to get it all. I DON’T KNOW, OKAY?” It was just time to get a haircut, ya know? You know. You said so as I sat there and told you all this.
You asked me what I wanted to do and when I said, “I just want it cut right above my shoulders. Long enough that I can still pull it up in a ponytail.” That was not a joke, sweet new hairdresser friend. I FREAKING MEANT THAT. I meant that so hard.
We talked about how my hair is curly and I wanted just enough layers in it that it wouldn’t flair out and look like a triangle. Can I get an amen from my curly haired friends? You showed me where you were going to cut it. I nodded in agreement. I thought we were all good.
You started cutting in the back. I looked down because I didn’t want to stare at you. And by that I mean I didn’t really want to talk to you. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m an introvert and small talk is painful. If you don’t know, introverts ask people they don’t know questions like, “What are your thoughts on the orphan crisis?” and “Want to talk about women’s rights?” I just can’t with the small talk. I was doing you a favor really. YOU’RE WELCOME.
Then you moved to the side. I was still looking down because we’ve already discussed this. I heard the sound of the scissors and saw what looked to be a small animal fall from my head into my lap. I thought, “Is someone throwing hair at me!? Surely that much is not falling from MY head. That would be crazy because THAT’S SO MUCH HAIR.” And then I looked up.
I’m not going to lie to you, I think you lost your eyesight in between us talking about what I wanted and then you cutting. Either that or you’re really Edward Scissorhands. (OMG I kind of LOOK like Edward Scissorhands.) Or you have short term memory loss. I haven’t decided. When I looked up and saw what you had done to half of my head I cussed. I think I said them all. I didn’t want you to know I was upset, so I did all of that in my head. While I was smiling at your “work.” (I’m putting that in quotation marks because my hair is SO short.)
You finished cutting my hair. You asked if I liked it and I said I did. Because really, other than saying, “Oh I didn’t know I was going to donate to Locks Of Love today” or “Might as well just finish the deed and BUZZ MY WHOLE HEAD!” there really wasn’t anything else to say. Maybe you really work for Locks Of Love.
AND THEN I GOT HOME. I was going to throw my hair up, change my clothes, and go work out but I couldn’t find a way to get my hair up. I almost started crying because that is what I do. I throw my hair up. It took me thirty minutes and 10 bobby pins to figure out how to get my hair up. So basically I bought stock in bobby pins immediately. I didn’t go work out because SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT THE POINT OF THAT EVEN IS?!
Insert panic mode and Google.
Let me just say, a normal week night Google search for me is “my dog has rancid gas” or “how to cut ginger.” But on this particular evening I found myself googling “hair extensions for white girls,” “how long does it take hair to grow,” “foods that make your hair grow faster,” and “HELP they cut my hair too short.” Google says it takes a while for hair to grow and that I should go tell you that I don’t like it, but that feels really weird. We’re not friends.
I texted my husband a picture of my new hair. Mainly because I didn’t want him to come home and think that a stranger had broken into our home and was sitting on the couch crying and stroking her hair. (Oh wait it’s so short that I CAN’T EVEN STROKE IT.) I also said that if he said anything mean I could not be held responsible for my actions. Because that’s what marriage really is. Other than saying I look like a boy he’s been pretty nice. WAH.
It’s been five days since this whole crisis happened and I find myself daily saying things like, “I get sad when I look in the mirror” and “I’m really excited for my hair to grow.”
So, in the mean time you will find me not washing my hair, not wearing rubber bands, using horse shampoo, and taking prenatal vitamins because Google.
All I’m going to say is, you win some and you lose some. And this was a gigantic loss. A gigantic loss of hair.
I’m also going to say that learning to embrace shoddy haircuts was NOT on my list of things to do this summer. But whatever. CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.
I am not fishing for compliments by showing you a picture. I mainly just want you to see how much hair she just casually cut off. Like, that’s just what I do on Tuesdays. I cut off 8 inches of hair. Can you just imagine the shock when I looked up!? (In a shrill voice: THIS IS NOT WHAT WE TALKED ABOUT!!) I also want you to see how that much hair falling in ones lap can absolutely resemble the hair of a small shaved animal of some kind. IT SO DOES.