Spoiler Alert: I'm Going to Whine About My Hair

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Bad Hair DayBad Hair DayHappy New Year’s and all that shit. Just in case the title was not enough to warn you, I am going to complain about my own personal problems for a minute.

Personally, the new year is not starting out as well as I could have hoped and it has to do with my hair. And, yes I am aware that there are major crises out there in the world, and that people are sick, and serious problems exist, but in the space of about four days, my hair changed from slightly unruly and unkept to basically the style that you would see on a 80-year-old woman.

I went in a few days ago for a cut and a  change in hair-style. I explained what I wanted, and felt confident that it would be ok. Mid-way through the hair cut and for no apparent reason, the woman started freaking out as she was cutting my hair. She became increasingly agitated and started cutting faster and faster.

I stiffened up, and indicated that I was slightly frightened.

She didn’t stop cutting and started to cut even faster. I did not pretend I did not care and basically asked her what was wrong.

She stopped cutting, and told me to look at myself. I looked like a wet dog. Then she had the nerve to tell me that I was making her uncomfortable and told me that she wanted me to leave her chair, asap.

I asked her to style it and said that I would not take the cut for free. Before she styled my hair, she took her scissors out and cut out a large chunk from the crown of my head.

She then  styled my hair and told me she had used the thinning sheers and not scissors (which was a little lie) and I left the chair unsure about my hair.

After my New Year’s Eve realization that my hair was not doing it for me, I decided that I was still unhappy and that I would like to color it. I went to a different salon based on their reviews and asked the stylist coloring suggestions. I told her my horror story, and became comfortable. She asked permission to cut through a little to “fix” the last hair cut and said she would put a little color in.

I felt comfortable. Too comfortable, as it turns out. She cut much more hair than I wanted and I left looking like “Shirley Temple” with orange highlights.

The damage has been done and I’m not sure what to do now. Should I hide in my house and wait a year for it to grow out? Do I pretend not to notice the looks of pity on my friend’s faces and the joy in the hearts of my secret nemesis’ as they see how bad I look?