A few weeks ago I got off of work early, which is a really good feeling when it's one of the first beautiful days in Chicago since last summer. With the weather being warm and a bounce in my step, I decided... "today will be the day I pay for a real haircut!"
People who know me know that I quite frequently try to cut my own hair... and people who know me know that I quite frequently don't succeed.
That beautiful day was going to be different... that beautiful day, someone was going to cut it for me, even if I did have to suck it up and pay full price. I usually opt for MasterCuts or whatever place has the best deal in the mall, but this time I was going to go to a legit professional salon, which meant this time it was going to be expensive.
There's a little salon a few buildings down from the Starbucks I work at and ever since I saw a sign for "free haircuts," I've had my eye on it. The part of the sign that you don't see from far away is the tiny little asterisk which then directs you to the bottom of the sign where the fine print is. This is where you would find "the catch" anytime you think something is too good to be true... more than likely, it probably is. The catch in my too good to be true situation was that I could only get a free haircut "with purchase of color treatment."
Do you realize how much color treatment is at a legit professional salon?
Yeah... neither did I. I'd rather cut my own hair. Seeing as that the haircut I was sporting at the time was a self-do in need of some serious help, I walked in the salon and said I wanted the cheapest color treatment possible... there was no being modest about it... I was (am) cheap and damn proud of it. Some might do me the honor of calling me frugal, but let's call a spade a spade... I'm cheap.
The cheapest color treatment was something called a "toner." I still don't really understand what that means other than I know my hair looked a bit darker and much "shinier." Who knew that for only $45 I could make my hair shine so much.
Only $45!!!! I hated the thought of it, but seeing as a legit professional salon haircut was minimum $50 at this place, I had to convince myself that I was getting a deal for the "cut and tone." If only it was that easy when I went to the gym to get cut and toned. (OK, actually, if only I went to the gym and then if only it were that easy to get cut and toned).
As the girl surveyed my lop-sided head (I fell off the handle bars of my dad's bike when I was little), she said she had the perfect idea... "long on one side, short on the other." The combination of being a Tegan & Sara fan, living among hipsters in Chicago and always ready to try something new, I told her I was game.
Yes, I was literally that cheesy and said "I'm game!"
Now I realize to "many" of you, especially you southern folk from where I was raised, this sounds like an awful idea... but if you could hear me out for just a second, it actually turned out really good. I think even most southerners would have approved without calling me a dike.
Let it be said, that she (not me) did a great job.
So what's the problem?
Well, the problem with my hair didn't start until the next day, when I thought it was maybe just a bit too long on the "short" side and I could "fix" it by trimming it up a little.
Why I am assuming that I will do a better job "fixing" it than a legit professional salon (who told me I could come back and get it trimmed for free if I wanted) is way beyond me. Sometimes I just come to this place of thinking that I have the absolute best ideas and it isn't until after I execute them that I realize it was much worse than just a bad idea.
And so, the very next day, after paying $65 to get my haircut (because they don't tell you that you also have to pay for the shampooing process until after it's done), I took a pair of scissors from the kitchen, closed my bathroom door and started cutting.
The result was something like this...
OK, so it wasn't that bad, but let me warn you... it was somewhat close.
As I started to cut I kept thinking "oh crap," and with each "oh crap" came an attempt to fix it. It took a good whole front section of my head for me to realize I wasn't fixing it.
I stopped, put the scissors down, laughed at what I did and then put on a hat.
Truth be told, I really don't care what my hair looks like anymore. If I were still in high school or in my college sorority, I would probably care a lot (mainly because of what others would think), but after shaving it a few summers ago I came to find out that it grows back.
I'm not saying that I like the way it looks right now, I'm just saying that it grows back... so why freak out about it?
Coming to terms with my "different" haircut, I started to get really excited about my trip home.
Why?
Because I couldn't wait to see my mother's response.
I know that sounds horrible, but if I was gonna have hair like this for a while, I was at least going to have fun with it.
(To be continued...)
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