Taste my sadness...

When I was twelve we were getting family pictures taken at a studio in the mall. My mom dropped me off at Mastercuts to get my hair cut before the pictures were taken, apparently it wasn't too cute or something. Well the first mistake was her leaving me there. The second mistake was me trying to explain what I wanted. I told her I wanted my hair just above my shoulders with some layers to frame my face and that I wanted bangs as well. What I ended up with was feathered layers all around my head which created a sort of mullet effect because my hair had a lot more volume on top than the ends did. When I pulled my hair back I looked like a confused boy. I hated it and felt like trash especially knowing that this disastrous cut would be immortalized in our family picture that year.

Next hair cut bad enough to ruin my life came at the opportune age of 18 and happened to me the day before I graduated from high school. Went to the salon, again my mom dropped me off. Some of you may say surely an 18 year old can have a haircut on her own. Oh no my friends not this 18 year old and not after so many prior trips gone awry. So on the day before graduation I was looking for a shorter let us say chin length haircut with an a-line and some layers to amp up the volume. Well my hairdresser was obviously snorting coke in the back room and as a result incredibly scissor happy. She left me with hair that barely touched my ears and she freaking used the razor on the back......vomit two times! I wanted to die. I suppose some of the blame lies with me because after all I am the one sitting there as they cut pieces of my life away but after all these years I still trust them because of their qualifications that they know what they are doing and that somehow that razor works into the end result that I was looking for....wrong. Well compounded with the fact that I graduated from a high school I had attended for less than two months, that dastardly haircut made my graduation day one of the worst of my teenage life. When I put my cap on you could no longer see my hair. Still to this day scrapbooking will not be allowed with those pictures.

Fast forward four years to me trying to live an independent life but still not enjoying getting my haircut unless my mom is there. In April of this year I got a haircut when I was home and my mom sat next to me. I liked the hair cut, I also believe there is a direct correlation. So last weekend I decided I needed to get my haircut. It was look extraordinarily limp and dry at the ends so I made myself an appointment. Saturday afternoon came and I quickly sent an email to my sister just before I went to do the deed. At the end of my message I made a comment about wishing me luck as I was going by myself to my hair appointment. As I was making my way to the salon I thought to myself how ridiculous it is for a 22 year old to still want/need her mom to come with her. Confident in the three pictures I had with me and the clear vision of what I wanted I brushed the thoughts aside and carried on.

Upon meeting with my stylist we had a quick chat about what I was looking for as I shared the photographs with her. She spoke in a manner that ensured to me that she was clear about what I had in mind. I told her I was concerned about my face shape and wanted a flattering length somewhere above my shoulders but still below my chin. I asked for layers to give it a little body and choppy bangs that would be somewhat asymmetrical.

For those of you who have seen me since saturday you could attest to what my hair looks like. What I got was not what I wanted nor like the pictures. My hair is above my chin and closer to my ears. It is so short in the back that it is almost at my hairline. My bangs are frightening to look at, they are one straight line across my forehead a full centimeter or two above my eyebrows. I would post a picture but it would make me cry to take one.

What I hate almost as much as my new haircut is that I still smiled and tipped the stylist. Why can't I muster up the courage to say it isn't what I want or asked for, no I don't like it or think it is cute, I actually hate it and it makes me want to cry?? Maybe someday I will or maybe I'll just never get my haircut again without my mom.

PS Muchas gracias to all of you who have said nice things about it to me.

PPS Shout out to my mom who sadly also got a horrible haircut this past weekend.