As I was typing my previous post about my Liberty Bell hairdo, I remembered a couple other times that I had some horrendous hair mishaps. No, I'm not talking about my 3rd grade, 4th grade, 5th grade, 6th grade or 7th grade hairdos. Those don't count. I'm talking in my adult life. And no, I'm not talking about the senior year cheerleading picture, either.
When I was in college, I was sitting at home watching Lifetime movies and the star of the movie I was watching had the CUTEST haircut EVER. She had long layers and it just looked so nice. Having the same face shape as yours truly, I thought that would be a nice, subtle change-up with my current cut, which was just long and long. I wasted no time in heading to the mall to a Regis salon. I was met by a middle-aged woman and I described what it was that I wanted to do, having the shortest layers being about the bottom of my ear length when dry, the rest would be longer yet and just a trim off the bottom. She sounded and looked like she understood what I was saying. She shampooed and conditioned my hair and divided my hair up and used clips to hold chunks of hair out of the way.
She started with the front right quadrant of my head. I was not totally facing the mirror, but could tell once she started to cut that something wasn't right. She lopped off about 6 inches to bring the front quarter of my hair butt up against my earlobe. I exclaimed, "WAIT! What are you doing?!" She said, "isn't this what you said you wanted?" I said, "NO!" And that's when I began to cry. She whispered in my ear as I am sobbing, "this was just a miscommunication." Ummmmmmm, no shit?! She proceeds to ask ME how she wants me to fix my hair!!! Yes, you, the professional, ask the woman sitting in your chair in hysterics how YOU should "fix" her hair. I'm crying and in between sobs I say, "I don't know! How do you fix something like this!?!"
Well, let me tell you how she "fixed" it. She gave me a mullet. Yes, a mullet. No, I'm not making it up. Granted, it was what I would envision someone who is trying to grow their mullet out would look like. The front quarters of my hair were at least 6 inches shorter than the back half of my head. Nope, not joking. It was awful. I got a 10% discount for that cut, which, by the way was the same discount as my student discount.
I left the salon and had to pass through the store my now brother-in-law worked. Fortunately/unfortunately, he was working as I passed through looking like I had just heard the saddest news on the planet. He stopped me and wanted to know what was going on. I had just stopped crying, but upon having to rehash the horror, I said, again sobbing, in the middle of Scheels, "Jay, I got a haircut and I ended up with a MULLET!" He immediately starts to laugh and says, "Come on, it can't be THAT bad!" I pulled the ponytail holder out of my hair to reveal the mulletude. Me, still crying. In the middle of Scheels. He says, "Oh. Oh, man." He is again laughing and says, "Wow, Trish, when I saw you crying, I thought your Sunny had died or something!" I said, "Jay! This is SERIOUS! I. Have. A. Mullet!! I have to go." I abruptly left the store and headed for home. In the meantime, Jay called Brett to give him a heads up on the situation.
I arrive home to have Brett react almost the same way, but have some sort of compassion for my outburst of emotion for the trauma of sporting a mullet in the new millennium. No one should have to do that. No one.
The next day, I called the salon, spoke to a manager, who told me to come in immediately and she would fix it AND refund my money. She completely understood what having a mullet meant to me. I went, she fixed, I lived to tell about it.
I might as well give you the synopsis of the last mishap with my hair. It was 2 months before our wedding, I colored my hair at home, which I had done a million times over. This time, however, the dye left a red stripe all around my head like a very strange halo. It was two inches from the roots and was a stripe about 3 inches wide. ALL THE WAY around my head. For the next two months before our wedding, I had to go to a salon twice a week for three weeks, then once a week for 3 weeks to have my hair stripped and detoxed only to have it dyed again days before the wedding. That was over 300 dollars worth of "oopsie." Never happened again after that. Odd it HAD to happen right before I was about to get married. Go figure.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you really wondering how I don't have my own sitcom, until next time...
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