Monday, March 26, 2007

Barrettes

Guess what I'm wearing in my hair?

That's right. Barrettes. Cheap metal clips are tying my hair back.

Why, you ask?

Because the person who cut my hair thinks I'm full of shit. I went in and said, "I want you to take off an inch and add a few long layers. It is really important that I can get all of my hair pulled back into a ponytail. I work with sick people all day, and I don't want my hair to catch anything." She smiled and nodded and said she understood. I even had her repeat the plan back to me to make sure we were on the same page.

And then she lept from that page and started cutting. Quickly. In less than a minute, I had lost several inches of hair. It was chin length, and she hadn't even cut layers yet.

As a general rule, I don't like to cry or throw things in public. So, in a calm voice (albeit through my clenched jaw), I said, "Okay, now lets make these layers long. This cut is a little shorter than I expected, and I have to be able to get this all back in a ponytail." Again with the nodding and smiling and repeating the plan. And again with the totally ignoring repeated plan. (I'm never robbing a bank with this woman.)

She then cut the layers--short layers. In fact, I'm not even sure that they technically qualify as layers. They made actually be glorified bangs. And the damn things are in my face all the freakin' time. So now, I need not only a hair tie but also these damn barrettes to get anything done.


This is not the first time that this has happened to me. In fact, I've only met one hairdresser who listened to what I wanted and then actually made that happen on my head. I should have paid the woman to relocate with me.

I've been thinking about why this keeps happening to me, though, and I think I've figured it out.

I look like crap when I go to get a hair cut.

I always do it on a Saturday when I've got about 80 other things to get done. This time, I got up, showered, left the house with wet hair and no makeup, emptied our recycling, and then got the haircut. By the time I made it to the salon, I definitely looked like shit (and may have smelled a little like the recycling). I can only assume that the hairdresser took one look at me and thought, "Clearly, this woman does not know what looks good on her. Whatever she asks for, I'm doing the exact opposite. Poor thing. She smells like trash."

Next time I go to the salon, I'm going looking good (or as good as anyone can look with this haircut growing out). I'm doing my hair first. I'm painting my nails, and wearing makeup, and donning clothes in colors I've been told flatter me.


Well, I may not go that far. But I'm definitely waiting until afterwards to deal with the recycling.

7 comments:

Cheryl said...

I'm sorry I laughed while reading this. I wasn't laughing at you. You just told it funny. I can't for the life of me understand why hairdressers don't follow directions. I like having repeat clients and know the way to retain them is to do what they want. I'll give suggestions, but that's it. Suggest. I know who's paying my bills. Did you get cute barrettes?

Thanks for adding me to your blogroll. *grin*

I had an asiago bagel with plain cream cheese today. Yum. I like everything about Panera's. I hope more places offer free wireless. It's got to be good for business.

Teronni said...

Glad I made you laugh, Cheryl! If you saw the hair, you would be laughing at me. The longer layers from the base of my neck seem to be growing faster than the rest. The back of my head looks like steps!

ryan said...

oh how great
recycling and hairspray
the perfect match

that reminds me
i must get my hair cut
it has been months!

for some reason
i
can
never
keep
up
with
it

i constantly cut it short
then let it grow super long
there is no middle ground for me
i should learn the art of maintenance

Proxima said...

Yeah, it's too bad you don't live closer to Cheryl, then she could do it for you.

I once had fried hair from a perm because the stylist was too busy talking to another. I even interrupted them once to say, the time went off and it's starting to burn. She said "Ten more minutes honey." Without at least looking at it. Then when I didn't want to pay for damaged hair (it was actually breaking off) she gave me a big song and dance about how hard it is to put her little kids through school. (Well, then maybe you should focus on doing your job instead of chatting up the other lady about potpurri and home decorations!)

-P

Kelley said...

Oh my god; I can relate. I once asked to go shorter, but I specified that I still NEEDED the ponytail. (I needed the ponytail because I worked with severely Autistic children, and they grab hair.)

I went home with a bob. My mother loved what it did for my features, but I still haven't forgiven... And I hate those stupid 5-yr-old metal clips.

Maria said...

Believe it or not, I can almost beat that.

Right after Liv was born, I was seriously sleep deprived and had rat nest hair. So...I went to a salon and said I wanted it a little short on the top but to please keep the length on the sides. I then managed to fall asleep in the chair.

When I woke up, I had a FUCKING mullet. I literally cried in the chair. The operator told me that I had requested that.

"WHAT? Who in their right mind would request to look like this?"

I went home and Bing LAUGHED when I walked in the door but shut up fast when she saw me bawling....

Just wear really cute barrettes. Liv has some little mermaid ones I could send to you.....

Melanie said...

i think most of us have experienced that at some point. i mean, a good hairdresser can be an artistic genius...but it's definitely no requirement for the license. to get the license, i sometimes wonder if they just have to go outside in the rain and prove that they can manage not to drown. if you don't die, poof, you're smart enough to cut hair. again, before people flame me, i'm not saying that all hairdressers are stupid. not even saying most are. just saying that being at all bright is necessary to get that paper. and as such, you get people whose comprehension level is so bad that they can hear you speak, repeat it back to you verbatim, and then their fingers start flying apparently with little or no guidance from their brains at all. so...in addition to finding a good one and becoming her sexual slave in return for her never leaving you, i also humbly suggest drawing pictures of your hairdo, taking your hairdresser to couples therapy with you to ensure that you both communicate with the right terminology to best understand one another, and also that if you go somewhere to get your hair done, you ABSOLUTELY REFUSE to let anyone touch your hair if their own hair looks bad or unhealthy at all. because, you know, if they can't fix something that's been growing out of their own head for decades, how the heck are they gonna deal with anything else?