Monday, November 29, 2010

What is that ... thing?

Hallo out there!

Oh yeah, look at me posting three times in three days. Holla! (I realize that I have no right to say that what so ever, don't judge too much) 

So.... An update on ... you guessed it, the hair. (I promised you didn't I?) I have an especially juicy fail-story to share with you all ... So buckle up and get ready to gooooooooooo! 
Sometimes my own nerdiness disgusts me. Thankfully not now. :)

Anyways.... The year was 1688. A desperate power struggle was occuring within the English Parliament regarding .... oh, wait. Wrong story :P

This particular fail came about into the annuals of history (I think I'm allowed to use that phrase?) almost 3 years ago. That summer, I was going to travel with a group to see Switzerland, and me thinking I was being smart said to myself, "HEY! Let's get the hair cut! We'll be prepared!"


My hair was a little past my shoulders at the time, and was not a beast. We had a good relationship. It was give and take, but we listened to each other. How soon that would change. Imagine this imaginary readers ... I walk into Great Clips all happy-go-lucky. I sit down, all excited. I get up to get my haircut, still excited. I tell the woman, "I want about 2 to 3 inches taken off, and could you relayer my hair?"

Simple, right?

Wrong again.

She told me to put my head down so she could "cut" the back. So tra la la, I'm sitting there happily until she moves my head up to cut the front. At the time, I can't see the back of my head, so I'm not flippin yet. YET. She doesn't really take off that much in the front, but I kinda like it. Kinda. How soon that would change. 

To understand the extent of this story, you must know my hair. My hair is in it's own timezone/zipcode/dimension. It does what it wants, when it wants. For example, if it doesn't want to be straigtened with a straightener, it won't. I've learned not to fight it. The weird part about it is that it wasn't this way for the first few years of my life. We were a team. The beast was also straight-slash-wavy. Then, the no-good-awful-horrible-haircut came into being.

Back to this epic. So, I got up to leave from the haircut when I catch a glimpse of my hair. At first, I'm not flippin out that much, because I was like, "I can WORK this."


I did not know that I would come out of that Great Clips changed forever. I went in with calm, wavy hair and I came out with a nightmare. (Even now as I'm posting this, my hair is getting angrier and angrier.) As soon as the monstrosity that was the modified-boy-femover dried, my hair was pissed. And I mean PISSED. It decided, you know what? Let me do the opposite of whatever that girl wants. I mean, she subjected us to ... this ... thing. So BOOM. A curly, afro-like, boy hair cut was born. And when I said it looked bad on me, I'm not kidding. I went back the next day and another hairdresser fixed my hair for free. She took one look at it and was like, "Honey, come here to the back. Let me see what I can do with this ..."

To be fair, that lady fixed it so it was at least presentable (I promise, hair. You looked semi-decent. Now stop gathering rage.). And it would have looked better on someone who had pin-straight thin hair. So basically, it would have looked good on the opposite of me. Now, the beast is in full swing and is a crazy, kinky, everything-I-don't-want-to-happen-on-my-head mess. Hooray.

So the result of this fail? A few hundred pictures of me in Switzerland with the most wacked out haircut I have EVER seen.

And that is my fail story. Kind of anti-climactic, but I know you'll be able to move on with your life. It's not that much of a bigge.


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