A Mommy Story

With less than a week before BlogHer, I knew I needed a haircut and an eyebrow wax. So today Aaron agreed to solo duty with Cordy while I went to the mall.

First, I’m cheap. I’m not quite so cheap as to go to Fantastic Sam’s for a haircut, but I didn’t feel like shelling out the money for a frou-frou salon. The mall salon is usually good enough for me. Second, changing my hair usually makes me nervous. I always worry that the stylist will screw it up, and a bad haircut will make me self-conscious until it grows out.

Today the mall salon was packed, but they were able to fit me in. I should have backed out when the first available stylist was ready. Her previous customer had a haircut that I thought looked awful. But I was armed with pictures and descriptive words of what I wanted. I explained that I wanted a little length off, and I wanted my long layers cut back in. I told her my hair is heavy, so I like layers to keep it from being flat. I said no bangs, and it has to be easy to care for. I’m a wash ‘n go kind of girl.

She started cutting, and I relaxed. She seemed to understand what I was saying, and I also had beautiful pictures of hair models showing off shaggy yet stylish cuts.

Soon I started to worry. She was taking hair up near the crown of my head and cutting it awfully short. I had asked for layers no shorter than my nose. But I assumed she knew what she was doing, so tried to relax again.

When she was done, I was slightly shocked. I had the same cut as the previous customer. I looked like an 80’s punk rock girl. I know the 80’s are back in fashion, but my hair looks like it could be on someone opening for Joan Jett.

Because I can never get up the nerve to say I don’t like my hair, I paid and left without a single criticism. After all, she spent so much time working on my hair! And she’s the one trained in hair fashion, so maybe she knows something I don’t? Maybe this is the haircut every woman is going for now? I simply can’t ever complain about a haircut. Besides, I really don’t want someone who controls scissors near my hair after I’ve complained about their talents.

I also had mentioned more than once that I am a mother to a toddler and have no time for upkeep on my hair. I told her I rarely did more than brush it after a shower. So why did she take 15 minutes putting no less than 5 different styling gels, sprays, and pomades in my hair?

So now I have bad hair for BlogHer, and I’m just depressed about it. The shape is all wrong, and I worry that it will require a larger upkeep than I’m willing to invest. I’m going to try washing it tonight to see how it looks without all the styling gunk in it. Maybe it won’t look too bad.

I’m going to be brave and show you now what it looks like. That way I’ll be easy to spot at BlogHer – I’ll be the one with the 80’s rocker hairdo. Please try not to laugh, at least while I’m in earshot.

Before:

After: