While I was living in London, I encountered a major problem. I left with short hair, which meant four months without a trim was a bit out of the question. Getting a cut at a salon in London was pretty much out of the question as well. One of the girls who chose to go this route ended up spending somewhere around 100 pounds, which was roughly the equivalent to 200 American dollars. Because I preferred to spend my money in London on fabulous European chocolate and food at outdoor markets, stylish H&M ensembles (which no longer fit me, probably due to the fact that I no longer eat excessive amounts of aforementioned chocolate), and trips to the theatre (AH! To see Les Miserables on a casual week night now!), I chose not to get my haircut in London.
After a couple months of agonizingly attempting to make the mop on my head resemble a style, I went with one of my best friends, Steph, on a "live-in" visit to Acrington, England. This experience ended up being one of the most traumatic of my life, but that is a story for another time. The point for today's tale is the fact that while on that trip something possessed me to get the most horrific haircut known to man at a local "Supercuts."
Now. I am a bit of a snob when it comes to my hair. I wouldn't dare venture into a Supercuts or a Master Cuts in the states. What in the world convinced me that it would be OK to trust someone in the white-trash/armpit of England working at a Supercuts is beyond me. But trust I did. And I paid the price.
There were plenty of warning flags. I saw the girl who left the chair before me. She looked like someone out of an 80's punk band. I still sat down, watched a girl go crazy with scissors, paid MORE THAN I WOULD IN A SALON IN THE STATES for a haircut, and left with a mullet. YES. A MULLET! It was atrocious. My good friend Steph, ended up with a similar style. When I came back from my semester abroad my stylist literally asked me what in the world the woman had done to my hair. It was that bad. It took about six months to get it back to normal again.
Well folks, I now have a haircut that rivals that British mullet of a few years ago. My current stylist, who I adore, just had a baby and is not working. So, I went to the same salon, thinking another girl could at least give me a good cut to hold me over until she comes back. Alas, I was wrong. I was foolish! I was IDIOTIC!
My hair looks HORRIBLE. I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! And, I don't know what to do to fix the situation. Chad told me to go get it cut again, but where will I go? If I go to another total stranger it might turn out just as badly. And, frankly, I don't know if there's much that can be done without going terribly short all over. Plus, I already paid $40, and the thought of risking another $40 when I just GOT a haircut isn't too appealing.