stereotypical single woman

I really should know better, this isn’t the first time it’s happened to me. And I can pretty much guarantee I’ll do it again sometime in the future. I can be really stupid sometimes. Which is why I occasionally end up at places called “Great Clips” to get my haircut.

I had had a bad week. Last week , since I’m still unemployed, I was working my way through yet another strip mall, filling out more applications, and hoping, someone, anyone, even Bed, Bath, and Beyond or JoAnn Fabrics will hire me. After two hours I was beaten. My confidence was low. I needed a (very cheap) pick-me-up. Something to make me feel better about myself. Generally I like my hair, and I like it long. But my hair was getting a little too long and messy looking, so I figured that if I just got it shaped up I’d look a little better, and therefore feel better about myself too (please, now is not the time to lecture me about confidence coming from within, whatever, you’re right, but I’m just too fragile to listen to it right now.) I spied a Great Clips, and since I wasn’t doing anything too drastic I felt confident enough in the fact that they couldn’t screw it up too badly, and went in.

Oh, was I wrong.

First, my hairdresser’s first language was not English. Being the unenlightened American that I am, I don’t know what it was, except it wasn’t Spanish (I at least would have been able to understand that.) But she’d talk to the hairdresser next to her and I had no idea what they were saying, and that made me little uncomfortable.

Like always, her first request was that I take my glasses off, which leaves me very vulnerable. Without them all I can see is color and movement (yes, I’ve had contacts, but when you’re as clumsy and accident prone as I am you learn that it’s just stupid to keep replacing contacts that are $85 each after about the fifth one.) So off they come, I take a deep breath, and hope for the best. After about 15 minutes she hands me a mirror, instructs me to put my glasses back on, and swivels me around.

It could only have been described as one of those “holy freakin’ shit I have a mullet” moments.

And the hairdresser decided to get snippy with me when I asked her, in a choked up voice, to please take 2 (!) more inches off the back so that it would be even with the sides. She said it wasn’t that off. Now, with the training I’ve had I’m very good at eye-balling measurements, and I’m usually accurate to an 1/8 of an inch. How dare the sadistic bitch challenge me? And why did she have to take my long hair away???????

Okay, so it’s not THAT short. But it’s definitely shorter than I’m used to. I can’t pull it back into a ponytail when I work out and that pisses me off. It also require much more product to control in the morning. And it’s also a much different look for me - much slicker and put together. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it’s taking some getting used to, because it’s not really me.

When I was home this week I asked my mom what she thought of it. She looked at me, paused, and said “At least it’ll grow.” Thanks mom. I’ll remember that the next time you ask me if I like your highlights.