crowing glory

I’ll admit it straight out. I’m vain about my hair. I love it. It's thick and long and usually the thing I get the most compliments on. However, I’m also a sucker for a bargain. Usually I don’t let those two qualities mix but sometimes I forget and the inevitable happens.

On the glowing recommendation of two of my sisters-in-law (Hi Joyce and Nora!) I went to Paul Mitchell The School where students are studying to be hairstyle professionals. I was wooed by the thought of an $8 cut and style. In these tough economic times, who wouldn’t love an $8 haircut?

Remember that old saying.....you get what you pay for? Yeah. I got that.

The girl was nice enough at first; spunky and kind of old school with her punked out hair. But as the cut when on (and on and on) I began to rethink my original opinion. She told me how she had dropped out of school after her sophomore year and had started getting into trouble. Her parents had given her an ultimatum - go to Paul Mitchell or go back to high school. She ended up here. Normally, a high school drop out would not have concerned me. I know that school doesn’t appeal to everyone. But when she started to wander off for products, wander back with nothing, look at me questionably and ask, “Now what was I doing?” I really began to worry.

At the beginning of the session, I had told her that I wanted to keep the length, taking no more than half an inch off, since it had taken me quite awhile to get it halfway down my back. She said she understood perfectly because she would kill for hair like mine. Then she started cutting and I began to wonder if that hadn’t been a threat. After 2 hours (2 HOURS!) she was finished with the back (the back!). She pulled it over my shoulders and I couldn’t catch a breath. About 5 inches was gone. (GONE!) I didn’t say anything, I was kind of in shock, and she said “I did the half inch thing but then thought ‘Well, she’s just going to have to get it trimmed again soon,’ so I kept going.”

Aghhhhhh!

She kept going! Without asking me! I couldn’t do anything but nod. She had already chopped it off. I couldn’t do anything to fix it so I just let her finish with the blow dry. The whole time I just kept looking at it, becoming more and more sick to my stomach. When I finally made it out of there - after 2 and ½ hours! - I realized it was actually much worse than it looked. None of the lines were straight, all of the layers uneven and nothing blended. I called my regular stylist immediately and set up a repair appointment.

It’s all better now. I didn’t even have to lose much more for my girl to fix it. I don’t know why I have to keep re-learning all of these hair lessons. You’d think, by now, I’d know not to trust some random 18 year old high school drop out with my hair.

But then again, you also probably think I would never have accidentally dyed my hair pink and orange. And you’d be so wrong.