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Some women drink, others redecorate, most of us shop. But when I’m feeling particularly blue, I grab the nearest pair of scissors and start cutting my hair. I’ve done this since I was in high school. (Whether or not this is a healthy way to cope with stress, I’d prefer not to know.) I have sported some pretty bad haircuts over the years. But this latest one might well be the worst.
Yesterday I attempted to add layers to an 8 month old professional cut that had already undergone two previous hack jobs. My husband called the results “disheveled”. It’s not a good look. If I were in a rock band it could work. But I’m not. Or if I were more adept with gels and blow dryers, I could make it presentable. But I’m not.
So now I have to beg my hairdresser for an appointment before I fly off to Florida disguised as a middle aged harridan. Or risk being mistaken for a Yes Groupie or Susan Boyle, pre-makeover. And just between you and me, I’m pretty sure SHE cut her own hair too.
Part of my problem is that I’ve got “summer” hair vs. “winter” hair. My hair looks best in the heat. My winter hair is thin, flat, and lifeless. In summer I have gorgeous humidity induced waves. Any cut looks good on me in summer, even the ones I give myself. In winter, the flaws in my cutting technique (and my bad judgment) are far more obvious and painful to behold. As in, right now. Luckily it is cold enough to wear a hat.
I’m not the only one to suffer the scissors. I also randomly “trim” my dog between groomings. This annoys the dog, but saves a lot of money. He currently sports a “do” with a weird fluffy butt, and super skinny legs. Apparently it takes training to groom dogs, training which I have not bothered to obtain. It is quite possible that I cut dog hair even worse than my own. The kids say the dog looks like a miniature sheep. They claim he is an embarrassment to the family. Funny, they say the same thing about me.
When I told my husband that both I and the dog were getting hair cuts today, he asked, “Not at the same place, right?” Strangely enough, I found that to be a reasonable question. Which says a lot about how far I will go to save a buck.
The answer is that NO, I will not be getting my hair cut at the dog groomer, but it is an interesting idea. The problem is that the dog’s haircut actually costs twice as much as mine. That’s because I “go” to the local barbershop along with all the Dads and their 10 year old sons. The service is excellent and well priced. And best of all, Linda doesn’t make a fuss when I come in looking like Edward Scissorhands attacked me in the alley next to CVS. She just fixes it.
I like to think that I’ve saved thousands of dollars over the years by trimming and cutting my own hair between “real” hair cuts. With this savings, I can pretty much justify any purchase I choose to make, from furniture to clothes. I like to tell my husband that he totally lucked out in marrying me. Some women spend hundreds of dollars on their hair every month, just on coloring. For a woman, I’m awesomely low maintenance. Sometimes he even agrees.
I’m afraid that this time my hairdresser is going to have to take it short. I’ve butchered my locks so badly that repairs may dictate a pixie cut. (Or heaven forbid, a Dorothy Hamill.) I used to look good in a pixie cut…when I was 10. I’m hoping for the best. The great thing about hair is that it grows back. It just takes time, and a tolerant loving spouse – who is hopefully taken in by this blatant “shout out” homage to his good nature.
Now, if I can just find a secure place to stash the scissors for a few months, I might be able to grow out these bangs by summer…
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