I recently had my hair cut. I cut off a bunch of the length, though it's still just past my shoulders. Most drastically, I cut bangs. I was a little nervous because when I did that last, the woman next to me at work looked at me all the first day with fear and confusion. The change was apparently too much for her. She's gone now, and I was ready to try again. This decision took weeks of staring at a photo I'd come across. I decided to go for it.
The first few days, I thought it looked pretty awesome, even if it didn't look just like in the photo. Then I did what I always do: mess with the bangs. I decided that they needed to be trimmed a couple millimeters. Then I hacked them to death. Oh, they were awful -- all uneven and choppy. Too short in the center. My mistake was that I tried to cut them straight across. I know now that you must snip into them with the tips of the scissors up and down or at a 45 degree angle.
At first, I told myself I'd just have to deal with them until they grew long enough to need a trim. But I couldn't take it -- they were so messed up looking. I didn't want to go to my regular hairstylist because she's way across town and also because I didn't want her to see what I'd done just days after she'd cut them.
I chose to go to a super-tacky salon I'd seen featured in our paper that's just up the street. I wanted to go for a walk outdoors and would pass it on the way home. I threw on my workout gear, strapped on my MP3 player and added a little deodorant for good measure. I certainly didn't bother doing makeup or hair, since I'd be taking a shower upon my return. My hair was in a ponytail, my bangs a bit puffy from sleeping.
I stopped in about 2/3 of the way into my walk. Now, this is a salon where the employees all wear trashy outfits showing tons of cleavage and have long, airbrushed nails and big hair. So when I walked in looking as I did, it was as if I was from the planet of frumpy, ugly women. It was obviously a horrifying sight. If I'd been in a movie, there would have been music playing, and as I walked in it would have stopped with the sound of a screeching record as everybody turned to look at me in disbelief. Yes, I was one of "those women" who make you wonder why some people can't be bothered to care how they look. Or you think that she has potential, if she'd just do something with herself. Only, I'm not one of those women, I was just mid-workout. And I don't really get gussied up when I'm working out.
So, finally, one of them says, "Hellllooo? Can we help you?!!" I tell my woeful tale of bad bangs and one woman, looking at me with great pity, invites me to her seat. And she fixes them the best she could. FOR FREE! That's how pathetic I looked! See, it all worked out.
Then I had to suffer for a week before I quit feeling like Jim Carrey in "Dumb and Dumber." Now I'm just wishing not to have bangs anymore. As usual, I'm over them in a couple of weeks.
Finally longer, but still sort of ... I don't know ... shaggy? Too wispy, maybe.