The Hair Cut Debacle of 2014

I have been putting off getting haircuts for the girls and myself for far too long. Literally months. I had told myself we would do it over spring break, but the Friday before spring break we accepted the position at SpringHill and instead of haircuts being a priority I was packing like a mad woman. It was time. It was about 3 months past time. Chad was poking fun at me over the weekend about how bad it was. So I promised by next Friday I would have all of us girls get a hair cut.

So Monday morning I purposefully drove past a salon and took a picture of their sign with phone number. I called. They were closed Mondays. Chad said to try another place, and told me the name. I called. They could take all of us at 3:15.

To be honest this did send up a bit of a warning flag in my brain. When I called my salon in Jackson I would rarely be able to get in to see my stylist within 3 days, and if I wanted to get all 5 of us in, it would be at least a week away! But that was Jackson, This is Evart, the similarities are so few, I needed to accept that everything would be okay.

We arrive promptly at 3:15. There were 2 stylist there to help us. One stylist was older, maybe upper 50's, the other was probably lower 30's and looked young and hip, with tattoos all up her left arm. Hope & Joy went first. As I watched the haircuts proceed, I felt much better about the younger stylist, I liked the way she did Joy's hair and then as she started on Grace's I just felt comfortable with it. Hope's hair looked good, but I did not feel as good about the stylist. The way she styled Hopes hair as she finished concerned me. There was only Faith & I left. I did NOT want Faith's hair messed up. My hair, well, I can always go shorter. If Faith's hair went wrong she could have an insane afro that could haunt her years to come! I boldly stepped up as Hope's hair was finished, "I am next!" I stepped forward bravely to the uncertain future of my hair.

I showed her the picture I desired, she cut. The first 6 inches hit the floor, and I was relived, as I said, these haircuts were way over due. About half way through she asked if I wanted bangs. I replied,  "No, I don't get into the salon enough to have bangs." She then said, "Well then you don't want what is in the picture," In her defense, I should have spoken up just then. I saw no bangs in the picture I was looking at! Just really long layers that framed the girl's face. But I didn't speak up, I just sat there. I could tell she was about to start styling and I could tell from the limp tendrils surrounding my face that this was not gonna be good. She styled and trimmed a bit more and my fears were realized. It did not look at all like my picture. It was a boring bob. And not a cute on either.

However, as I looked over at Faith, I knew I had made the right move. Her hair looked about the same to the average eye, but to me it was just right. Her girl had trimmed about 5-6 inches off, layered it perfectly, with all the dead frizzy stuff off the ends her hair looked even more amazing than normal. I knew my sacrifice was worth it. (Plus I had already decided to come back and have my hair fixed on another day.)

So as my stylist removed my cape and asked if I liked it, I lied. I told her it was good. It wasn't good. It screamed MOMMY HAIR CUT!!! in all the wrong ways. I may not be able to get makeup on my face or my body out of a t-shirt, but I want to at least have hair that looks from this decade. But we had been there for an hour and a half, the boys who had been patiently playing games on the tablets, were starting to get bored. I needed to pay and get out.

Today I was back in town to celebrate Joy's birthday with her class. After that was over I drove over to the salon. I sat in the car and looked in the window. I saw the girl who had done Joy, Grace, & Faith's hair working on a client. I saw another girl sitting in the back at the nail table. I did not see my stylist. I slid in the door quietly and slipped over to the girl working on a client. "Is ____ here?" I asked, praying the answer would be no.

"No" she replied.

I am sure she must have seen my relief, as I quickly and quietly said, "Okay, I was in yesterday and she cut my hair, and I don't like it. I was hoping someone else could fix it."

"Oh, yes" she said. The girl at the nail table, she sprung into action.

"I am sorry, it is just too straight, I need some more layers framing my face, and more texture!"

"It is okay," she said, as she put her fingers into my hair. "It is just too blunt?"

"Yes," I said, "that is the right words 'too blunt'!"

For the next 45 minutes or so I sat there as she trimmed and shaped and textured. My hair looked nothing like my original picture, but I didn't care, it was cute again! I was so thankful!

I am sure you all are wondering what the bad cut looked like, well, only those who live in my house will ever know. I took no pictures. I don't want to remember it! Well, maybe I do, cuz I am blogging about it, and it is funny. But I don't want to look at it. It was scary.

So to sum up...

So I now have a new hair stylist. Her name is Erin. I am so grateful for her.

Let's hope that finding a new doctor will go a little easier... :S