Then, the year of the bad haircuts hit. It started out slow… an uneven cut with a lack of style and slightly awful bangs. Nothing an emergency trip to a different salon couldn’t fix. Then a few months later the guy didn’t hardly cut my bangs because he thought the length was quite ideal. It was ideal for 2 more days, and then they began to look long and scraggily. Hence why I originally went in for the haircut.
Needless to say, next time I went in for a haircut, my bangs were almost to the floor. They were so long! Getting my bangs to look nice again was pretty much the reason I went in for that next haircut. The guy who saved my hair last time had moved on to a new salon, so I just took the first available person. Mistake numero uno.
During the pre-cut chat, I heavily emphasized how I wanted my bangs treated with extreme care to go back to their carefree days. Stylist Boy assured me that he would cut slow and careful and we could discuss as he went.
What started out slow and easy ended in a giant and drastic chop of the scissors.
After which he said, “a little shorter??”
I said, “Um, I think they are laying kind of funny right now. Maybe when I dry them the right way, they will be the right length.”
He tried re-drying them.
It only got worse.
I was embarrassed to stand in line to pay for my haircut.
They poofed outward and hung awkwardly to the side. They were thicker than before and uneven. And might I add, extremely short. I’ve had a lot of bangs cut, and I know the right technique. If anything, I’d describe his strategy as the opposite of right.
To say the least, I was not pleased.
There was nothing that could be done. It is like the scene in Friends after Monica gets a horrible haircut from Phoebe.
Rachel: How is she?
Phoebe: It’s too soon to tell. She’s resting, which is a good sign.
Ross: How’s the hair?
Phoebe: I’m not gonna lie to you, Ross. It doesn’t look good. I put a clip on one side, which seems to have stopped the curling.
Joey: Well, can we see her?
Phoebe: Your hair looks too good, I think it would upset her. Ross, why don’t you come on in.
Enter: The bobby pin.
Sometimes I would attempt to wear them down and my roommate would come in for a consult. Once I thought it was close. She got a magazine to wave in front of my face as if a sudden gust of wind came up. The hair did not pass the test. Back went the bobby pin.
Then one day, a month and a half later, I was getting ready for a wedding and out of the blue, I went to pin the offending hair back, when I realized it might look okay down.
So this weekend, my bangs made their big debut back into the world.