snip snip!

I took the plunge.

That’s right; I re-dipped my toes into the world of hairdressing. That’s not to say that I went out and undertook a hair dressing course or anything, of course not. I’m not trendy or motivated enough to do that (though perhaps I should – it might curtail my haircut disasters), but I actually went and got my hair cut. ‘Professionally’. Why, you may ask, did you put that word ‘professionally’ in quotation marks?

Simple answer.

My haircut looks like shit. No exaggeration.

I don’t know. Perhaps this is why I have avoided going and getting it cut professionally – because ultimately, every time I have been and paid legitimately hard-earned money, I have ended up with something I am so unhappy with, it makes me want to get out the electric shaver (or razor, or epilator perhaps? Ouch!) and start again. Oh dear.

Does that sound rather drastic? Even to me, who tends to exaggerate much, it does. But oh my.

I know hair grows, but there is only so long I can hide in my house before I run out of food and/or entertainment.

(I am still considering a hat option)

I’ve been told to experiment with hairdressers to find one I like, but, knowing how cheap I am, and how I only tend to get my hair cut on sporadic occasions when I get to the point where I am all ‘shit, I look more feral than usual’, I’ve been unable to accomplish such a feat.

Now, it’s not like I have been walking around for months with split ends and something which resembles a bird’s nest. I have, admittedly had my hair cut – it just happens to have been done by my mother. I figure she can cut in a straight line, and make comments like ‘your hair feels dry, what product do you use?’ (yes, she does humour me as she is the one who buys the shampoo, ha), and at least this option appears to be cheaper (literal cash costs vs. annoying mum comments), however, apparently in the long term, this leaves the hairdressers with even more work to do and hidden disasters to fix.

The other weekend I went into Just Cuts after bypassing many other salons with fancier names (and even fancier prices). All I wanted to see was whether I could get my fringe trimmed, a bit of length taken off, and whether they thought anything else would make me look nicer. Mousetrap had a similar price, but after a dirty look from a trendy hairdressing Asian (I’m not racist, really) Just Cuts seemed alright.

I told the lady I needed length because I had a fat head – she cut it just below my shoulders. I told her I liked a longish fringe, but one which I could still see from underneath, demonstrated how much I normally take off when I am at home and sat back. She cut my fringe short. Short. Too short.

‘How do you like it? It looks good?’ she smiles. Probably because she knows she is about to take $40 off me despite the ‘job’ she did on my hair.

‘Why yes, I quite admire your scissor wielding abilities, I LOVE my haircut’. I lie. And smile. It seems like the easier thing to do as I am aware she is still holding her cutting implements and angering someone who holds the power is really not going to help my lost cause anyway.

Good thing I am no Pinocchio or else, on top of an ugly haircut, I would be subject to seven years bad luck…

I don’t know, it seems simple enough that I should have done it myself or again, called on my mother to utilise her scissors. Maybe, in the end I just wanted to have someone else fuss over me. An attempt to make myself look a tiny bit better.

Though considering the fringe is short enough that my feral eyebrows are now in clear view, another trip to the salon is needed! Maybe I could even pay another exorbitant amount (ok, I shall admit slight exaggeration) and get it dyed a paint colour to make it look arty? There’s an idea.

Oh, and btw, i know it has been too long between drinks (if anyone cared). Hopefully my typing has not suffered. I hope a lovely Easter , new years, and Christmas was enjoyed!

And fuck, I am now 22. (Lol)


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April 2010
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