Traumatized

*updated 9/20/10

So, I got my hair cut yesterday afternoon. I usually wait to get it cut in my hometown by the most fabulous hairdresser ever, but our next visit will be so quick that I won't have time to drop by the salon. My hair had gotten too long for my liking...see below. Not bad or anything, but just a little too long and therefore too flat for me.


Anyway, I took a chance and went to a cute salon a street over from my house. I have had my hair cut there a few times before and it was always OK, never great. Someone new cut my hair, a cute 20-something. She was so sweet that she even curled my hair afterwards - something I (shockingly) had never done. I asked for 1.5 to 2 inches, straight across. Simple, right? Or so I thought. Well, I suppose curled hair covers up a multitude of sins.

Fast forward to this morning. I wash and dry my hair. Fine. I straighten my hair. NOT fine. I burst into tears. Bert was asking me if I wanted to make my college football picks and I just yelled at him to leave me alone. He did. You can't really see in this picture, but my hair is JACKED up, and far more was cut in 2 inches from the photo above (in my opinion). There is literally an inch difference in the front and back of my hair. That is why it is so awful. I can handle a little shortness, but I cannot handle that my hair looks like my cat cut it in my sleep.

The saga continues. I am headed back to the salon in an hour. I said I wanted to see a stylist that had been there a LONG time. I may or may not have been crying when I said this. Yes, I am being dramatic. I just want my hair to look normal again, like below in Mexico. And that's where I shall mentally take myself until I can (hopefully) get this monstrosity on my head fixed.