Tuesday, January 26, 2010
I have this gorgeous friend, Bianca, that has the most luscious and perfect hair. It seems as though she never has a bad hair day. Her hair could be greasy and smelly and still look great. She could have teased, split ended, over processed hair and I'd still daydream about her mop. Don't you just despise people with hair like that?
I covet her mane.
Not her man...her mane.
I haven't had my own mane cut in over six months (since my favorite stylist moved across town and I'm too lazy to drive an extra twenty minutes to see her), so I thought I'd go out with my husband while he grocery shopped (miracle) and have someone cut my hair to look just like my friend's hair. I brought a photograph of Bianca to make sure there'd be no mistakes.
Off to the closest Great Clips I went.
I paid exactly what the haircut was worth ($13).
In fact, I should have ran as fast as I could when I realized I couldn't understand a single word the older Asian lady was saying while she chopped off my brunette locks. Not a single word. Except--except when she exclaimed suddenly and out of the blue: "Oh my! You have sexy hair! Veeeeery sexy hair!"
I don't know how she could even think that after seeing all my gray hairs. Which brings me to my next question: Where did all these silver highlights come from? I mean, what the capital H happened?! I'm not even thirty.
But I tipped the Asian lady $5 anyway, because she said I have sexy hair.
Now here's where I am at...I don't think this haircut looks anything like me. I think I look strange. I think I look too old. I haven't had bangs since I left college up in Idaho in my super cool first car, a 1989 Chevy Corsica.
I cut those bangs myself.
What do you think?
I'm thinking I'd be stylish for circa 1992.
Good thing I didn't go to the random hair salon next to the gas station my husband suggested. Who knows how I would have ended up looking after that.
What I'm Talkin' About: Just Keepin' It Real