Friday, August 13, 2010


Have I had my share of bad haircuts? Yes. Even though I’ve gotten my hair cut far fewer times than the average person, the ratio, I assume is bad. Very bad.

It must have started when I was five and thought it would be a good idea if my hair came to a perfect point in the back. Like a reverse devil’s tail or something. Thankfully, my parents secretly told the stylist that it should be rounded, as opposed to a perfect point.

But that experience sparked what I can only assume to be a complete inability to properly explain what I want done. Because even though I break my ‘wants’ down into the simplest of terms, I end up with something wackadoodle.

Like the time I told the stylist I wanted layers.

“Layers?” she asked, her tone betraying her confusion.

“Yes, like where one layer of hair is shorter than the other … it’s quite popular.”

“Um … o …. k…”.

I ended up with a cut that looked as though my 5 year old brother had attacked me with a scissors in my sleep. Like seriously, I had one chunk of hair that hit my shoulder, while the chunk underneath it hit me mid-back. (Apparently, the layered look hadn’t yet reached Elk Grove Village, IL …?)

Then, there was the time I brought an issue of Vogue that had Ashlee Simpson on the cover and said, “That. I want that.”

Forty minutes and $55 later, I came out looking like some mini van-driving mom who had cut off all her hair in an attempt to make life with a million children just a bit easier.

And the most recent offender?

I was running behind in life, so I decided instead of trying to schedule something with my regular girl (who is usually book 3 weeks out), I’d just drop by the Regis Hair Salon in the mall. I mean it was the same price point, after all. And since my usual stylist seemed to understand my current language when explaining what I wanted done, I figured this new girl would, too.


Sure, it looked great when she styled it, but now, I’ve noticed a sudden rise in people saying that I look 12 years old.

12 years old.

Ok, maybe that one person assumed I was 17.

And then there was that other person who guessed me at around 22.

Look, I know I look young. What can I say? GOOD GENES.

But 12?

Excuse me while I visit the local vitamin store in search of some sort of hair-growing supplement.


  1. Picture please.

  2. Amazing how easy it is to walk away from a hair salon with a mistake that will be with you for at least a couple of months. Been there. Chopped off lots of hair in an effort to repair layers run amok. (Apparently, in some circles, "layers" still means Farrah Fawcett's look from the mid 70's.)

    Good luck on the search for Miracle Grow for hair. ;)

  3. hey at least your hair stylist didnt charge you $35.00 and have the haircut for a wedding in a house, and then you accidentally break an entertainment center door lol and

  4. 12? Yikes.

    I've had some bad experiences too. Like this one time where I told the stylist I wanted my bangs to sweep sideways... basically, what she did is cut my bangs at a slant--short on one side, long on the other. She messed up by cutting too short in the middle, and it looked bizarre.

    That's better than the time I came out of the salon looking like Moe from the three stooges. The stylist that time had a mullet. I should've known better than to let her near me with scissors.