I've been growing my hair out for the last 9 months or so. I prefer the way I look with shorter hair...not super short, but above the shoulders and all sticky-outy on the ends. Very cute IMO. But once in awhile I decide I'd like to have it longer. My husband loves long hair (doesn't every man though), so I also do it a little for him.
Lately I've been itching to cut it off. We're going to Vegas (baby!) in two weeks, and I really wanted to have my cute, kicky short cut back for vacation. I finally went and did it today. I picked a haircut from a magazine, showed it to my hairstylist and off she went.
It's important for me to note that I have never worried about cutting off my long hair. My hair grows fast and so my philosophy has always been "it's only hair, it will grow back". No big whoop.
So as my hairstylist starts cutting...and cutting...and cutting, I start silently freaking out. I'm screaming in my head, "NOooo!!!". I don't know what the hell happened, but apparently I was not as ready to cut it off as I thought. And just when I'd calmed myself down, she says to me "Well it too late to put back on, hope you happy!" and then she giggles. She's asian and does not speak very good english, so at first I thought I must have heard her wrong. Surely she didn't say that! But she did. Fuck.
Just my luck, I'm sitting in a styling chair right between two young, skinny women with hair hanging to the middle of their backs. One is getting hers straightened and the other is getting hers colored. I caught both of them shooting alarmed looks my way several times. I wanted to bitch slap both of them. Hard.
Every time my sylist would swing me out so I'm facing the rest of the salon, I would frantically search for any young, beautiful women that may be having their hair chopped off too. The only ones I saw were about my mother's age. I swear to God, the lady that sat down behind me told her stylist "just take a tiny bit off, I'm loving how it looks long!" Arrggghh....
So she dries it and styles it all poofy on top to make me look like I'm 50 years old and butch...I am neither of those things. Technically, the cut is exactly what I asked for though, so I figure I'll go home and style it my way and it will be fantastic. I drive home and anticipate what my adoring husband will say to make me feel better, like he usually does when I'm having image issues.
Me: What do you think?
Me: You don't like it?
Him: Do you like it?
Me: I'm not sure, I think I hate it
Him: Well, it's really short.
Me: Is that bad?
Him: I like your hair long.
Me: So you hate it?
Him: I don't hate it, it just isn't my favorite.
Him: Well, it's not THAT bad.
And that's where I burst into tears.
I know I can make it look better tomorrow. I'm sure I will love it! Really! I will!
On Becoming My Grandmother
2 months ago