Three Ds in the Big D

For months now, since November to be exact, I've been staying away from the hair salon so I can grow my hair out. I wasn't shooting for long hair, but I had a particular style in mind. I tolerated what I affectionately call The Poodle Stage, where my hair looks kind of doggie to me no matter what I do to it. It's not short, it's not long and it's a little too bulky. I must spend time fussing with it every single day, or when I'm lazy, cover it with a hand knit hat when out and about.

I put up with the shaggy look even through the holidays, and this just isn't really like me. It's not that I don't like the way I look with short hair but for some reason, I wanted a different style and for that I needed a little bit more hair. So I sucked it up and weathered the bad hair days while scouting magazines and online hairstyles for exactly what I want. In the past two weeks, I've gotten so many complements on how cute my hair was looking, but to me, it was getting really shaggy and I was beginning to sprout that mullet look.

Last week, I decided that while it was moving in the right direction, it needed to be cleaned up a bit, so I booked an appointment with my stylist. Also, Sara and I are hosting a baby shower Sunday and I felt my hair had to be just right for that. Before my appointment on Thursday, I uploaded a picture of exactly what I had in mind to my iPad and took it with me. I gave explicit instructions to my stylist of several years: no thinning scissors, no loss of length, clean up the back, leave the ability to tuck it behind my ears so it can be out of my way when I work and leave the bangs alone.

Did she give me what I asked for or even close to what I was working toward?

Why, no! Of course she didn't.

She gave me the same damn haircut I had 3 months ago!

She cut it all off, including about an inch of bangs which were getting closer to the tuckability point. I think we can all agree that bangs are the biggest pain in the ass to grow out and she chopped them right off. She told me she was evening things up, but it doesn't look even to me: it looks gone. Now I know this is only hair and it will grow back, but I'm so disappointed, slightly dismayed and rather disabused right now. To pour lemon juice on my freshly abraded feelings and for putting me back to square one, I got to pay her an obscene amount of money. In the three months since I've seen her, her prices have gone up and now she earns twice as much as I do in an hour.

To pour salt over the the acidic wounds, I've been buying a salon only L'Oreal product for thermal styling from her and I was out of the goo. I coughed up the ridiculous amount the salon was asking for the product and called it a day. Yes, it's expensive, but it works well and lasts about 6 months. Yesterday while shopping with Sara at a beauty supply store, we found the identical product for $15 dollars less than what the salon was asking. $15!!! That's a 150% markup I was charged. You know, while I don't have a bad haircut, it wasn't what I wanted, but on top of paying for what I didn't want, I got ripped off at the register and that's what seems to have annoyed me most.

I'm not without a plan though. I'm going to grow this hair until I can't bear it for another minute, and then I'm going to get in my car and make the five hour drive to Chicago to see the stylist who broke my heart when he packed up his shears and left for better opportunities five years ago. That's how long it's been since I've been given what I asked for in a hair style.

Alright...that's enough whining for the day. I have to go decorate a diaper cake.