Don’t cry over spilled milk…

or bad haircuts. Yet that is exactly what I did, as embarrassing that is to admit. On Friday I decided it was a good idea to treat myself to a visit at the hair salon. Just for a little trim and a little fixing of the highlights. I’m usually not the biggest small talker in the stylist chair and I love the time to just sit and stare, but this time I had a really nice stylist and we chitchatted the entire time. First the color was applied and after that was all over it was time for the hair cut. I used to have pretty long hair in high school until I one day decided to chop it all off for a cool bob which I’ll admit looked good but just never felt like, you know, ME. Luckily, hair grows out and pretty fast it was below my shoulders again but not until recently did I let my hair grow really long. I really, really liked it and it sounds really vain, but it was something that made me feel really good about myself. Until this lady who had been so nice to me for the previous two hours decides to cut of 2.5 inches when I explicitly answered “At the most half an inch. Really just a slight trim around the perimeter” to the question of how much I wanted off.

I didn’t notice it at the time, but my communication had clearly failed and instead of the rounded long layers and keeping the length as I expected, I ended up with a blunt, straight cut way shorter than I expected. At first I thought it was the blow-dry I didn’t like and didn’t think much of it until the next morning were the brutal reality hit me. Everything was the complete opposite of what I had said.

So I cried. And then I cried more feeling really silly about crying over my hair, because I’m really not that vain. I don’t even think it even can be considered a bad haircut, it’s just not the haircut I wanted. I guess it was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. There is a lot of other changes going on right now and as always a lot of things in life we don’t have any control over. I guess it’s the feeling of loss of control that’s irking me more than anything else.

But now J has said everything encouraging he could, there has been a teary-eyed facetime call to my mom, and with this blog post on the subject I now declare it the end of this matter.

But please tell me, have any of you guys ever cried over a bad haircut?


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