Well, it’s finally caught up with me. The fifteen-dollar lady gave me a really shitty haircut. Maybe the worst haircut, actually.
As in, visibly uneven.
As in, may have forgotten to work on ONE WHOLE SIDE OF MY HEAD.
I didn’t notice it when I left– she doesn’t really blowdry/ style much (hello, $15) and we were chatting away about something or other and I was excited to meet my friend J. for dinner and drinks afterward*. So I guess I just didn’t see it then, but holy shit, my friends. Holy Shit.
And do you know that for a second, I considered trying to fix it myself? Both for the sake of immediacy and because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings? Because it is totally sane to walk around– and go to one’s JOB, live one’s life, be photographed with one’s relatives at significant family events– with some kind of bizarre experimental and asymmetrical hairdo. As if my crap-tastic highlights weren’t already winning the beauty contest, now I have to sit with my head cocked to one side until I can get in for a rematch.
* because I’m the kind of cheapskate who will meet you for dinner with a damp, uneven haircut.