I left work early today to get my hair cut. My hair is extremely curly when it’s long, and lately, it’s been looking like a home for birds and rats. So, I wanted something radically different. Something short and sassy. Something like this:
I figured I’d try to save some money and not go to the high-priced salon that I normally go to, where they massage your scalp before chopping your locks, and offer you free drinks and a discount on a mani/pedi since you’re already there and primed to sell your soul for beauty. No, I didn’t go there. Instead, I went to one of those price-cutter joints where the cut is as cheap as the clientele. This one came highly recommended by two girls at work (who have really good cuts… until I come at them with scissors tomorrow, that is). Two girls who are now on my list of people to kill with sticks.
I came out looking worse than Sally Field in Steel Magnolias.
I got home and sobbed hysterically for half an hour, but hey, at least I’ll fit in with the local high school football team. My only problem now is whether to play wide receiver or tight end.
Note to self: Spend the buck or look like fuck.