So, I’m pretty good at explaining how I want my hair to look. Especially now, because
it’s it was long enough to actually do something with. And by do something, yes, I mean faux hawk. Shut up. I like it and I like it a lot.
Yesterday, because I’m the biggest glutton for punishment that I know, I decided it’d be a great idea to get a haircut at Wal-Mart, at the same time I was getting an oil change. It seemed brilliant and time saving at the time the idea was conceived, but after the idea was carried out? Not really the smartest thing I’ve ever done.
Nicki, or maybe it’s Nikki, who clearly wasn’t at the top of her beauty school (is that what they even call it anymore?) class, quite possibly mows lawns in her spare time, because my moppy hair was transformed into something that resembles more of a Swiffer if we’re going to stay on the cleaning analogies to describe my current hairstyle.
I’ll be honest. I haven’t washed it since it was cut. Why? Because it was also styled, with quite possibly rubber cement. I figured if she wanted to put me back into the Chia Pet phase, she needed to make my head look somewhat presentable.
The best part? After she took the razor with a four blade to the sides and back of my head. I piped up with, "You know, you can probably stop right now, because this is nothing like I just explained to you."
Her reply? "I’m not done yet."
But, like I told her: "It’s just hair. It grows back."
She was super happy after that came out of my mouth.
So happy, in fact, that she didn’t even make eye contact with me tonight when my brother and I hit Wal-Mart up for hairspray and AA batteries. In fact, I’m pretty sure she was trying to hide. Which is awesome.