Whenever I’m considering a new hairstyle, I always bring a photo of a celebrity.
I google “best hair cuts” and spend 45 minutes pouring through every picture of Sandra, Cameron and Jen until I finally find my perfect muse.
I print it out on my desk jet printer, which is always out of ink (so the photo is a weird magenta color) and stuff it in my bag as I race out the door.
OR… I forget to do the googling altogether, and end up frantically thumbing through the ratty copy of “Hair” magazine at the salon – hoping to find something reasonably modern in “Hollywood’s Top 25 New Cuts of ’97.”
I hadn’t had my hair done in months. My favorite hairstylist and The Mistress of Blonde Highlights Herself, moved to be with her husband in Washington D.C.
How freaking selfish of her.
It took me a long time to be ready to date again.
But this week I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to cut it off.
My hair was halfway down my back and thicker than Blake Shelton’s accent.
So I went to one of those walk-in salons. There was no wait, and it was Lady’s Night – all haircuts only $11.95.
This price blew my mind.
Is this what it feels like to be a man?
To not have to make an appointment a month in advance. Only to devote three hours and half your paycheck to hair dye. To not have to bake your roots under a dryer for 30 minutes until your nose hairs are singed and your hearing is gone from the deafening hum?
Men are just in. And out. Typical.
I should have been concerned when the lady walking out of the salon had a full-on mullet. The spikes on top still wet from fresh gel.
But I went in anyway.
My stylist had a northern accent and fuchsia lipstick. She most closely resembled Beth from Dog the Bounty Hunter.
I presented her with my celebrity picture – a coveted photo of Jessica Simpson in her glory days (see photo on left).
And this is what I got (see photo on right).
See the resemblance?
I know my expectations were too high. She’s a hair dresser, not a miracle worker for God’s sake.
She can’t give me a face transplant.
And I must admit after blowdrying and straightening it (that wasn’t included in the price), it didn’t look AS bad.
Sure, it’s not really even on both sides. And my bangs are a bit of a cluster f*&k, but who really pays attention to those things anyway?
I’m just happy I feel a little lighter. No more back sweat!
(And I’m still hopeful that one day I will find a stylist – who can make my Jessica Simpson fantasies come true…)