Every kitty needs a meme or two.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
hair-raising tales about horrible haircuts
For this blog post, I am going to tell you a story. Rare, I know.
It's about hair. I thought about not posting this story to my blog, because it's really about art and craft and design and mail, but posting a bazillion photos of my cat doesn't fall into any of those categories, so what the heck. And hair cuts should fall somewhere into the range of design and craft.
Eleven years ago, I got a great idea. I wanted a pixie cut. I wanted it bad.
I went in with a photo of how I wanted it cut, like any sane human being.
I came out with something like a bowl cut. I remember the fourteen year old boys in 1998 having something called a "mushroom cut."
It looked exactly like that.
I haven't gone to a professional to have my hair cut since that one time, eleven years ago.
(Un-coincidentally, that is exactly when I started wearing dresses...because I looked so much like a boy from the mid-nineties. Up until then, I dressed rather tomboy-ishly.)
Until today.
HAIR CUT DAY!
Why? Well, you may have noticed that I am a bit scarce in the blogosphere lately...and it's because I'm getting married at the end of the month. You may have heard that planning a wedding drives potential brides crazy from the stress. This is true. Also, there is a fair amount of pressure to "look good" on the big day, so I finally caved in and went to the salon, bravely, with picture in hand, again.
(A different salon, on the advice of a friend, of course.)
Here is the picture I showed the stylist.
I explained that I really like the diagonal line that's made by the edge of the hair.
I said that I wanted it to look pretty much exactly like this.
She then asked me if I wanted "side bangs."
Don't get me wrong - I love side bangs on everybody else. They're super cute. On me, they'd curl up, get wacky-wavy, and get stuck in my glasses frames, to be ripped out repeatedly every time I take off my frames. So I said no. But really, I should have said I DO NOT SEE SIDE BANGS IN THIS PHOTO and then just run away.
Soooo....this is what happened.
I paid, tipped her, and walked away, because if I can't communicate in pictures, I'm pretty sure words aren't going to help.
And yes, I understand that the salon would probably have someone cut it again for free...but there isn't enough left in the middle to make that beautiful, fancy, diagonal line anymore.
I'm thinking that it might be time to shave it? And then wait another fifteen years before consulting a professional.
Well, anyway. Lots of people say "I could have done that" to insult someone else's work. But I really could not have done this - and I say that with the full authority of having spent a decade cutting my own hair.
This is what my hair looked like this morning, before my new haircut - or in other words, how it looks when I cut it myself and then let it grow out for a year while I decide what to do with my hair for the wedding.
Comment below with a crazy suggestion for what to do next with my hair
(mohawk? a fictional blend of two well-known styles?)
and I'll pick my favorite one (on May 10th) and send you a silly postcard in the mail, featuring an illustration of your suggestion.
Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go blow a thousand million bubbles off the balcony.
It's about hair. I thought about not posting this story to my blog, because it's really about art and craft and design and mail, but posting a bazillion photos of my cat doesn't fall into any of those categories, so what the heck. And hair cuts should fall somewhere into the range of design and craft.
Eleven years ago, I got a great idea. I wanted a pixie cut. I wanted it bad.
I went in with a photo of how I wanted it cut, like any sane human being.
I came out with something like a bowl cut. I remember the fourteen year old boys in 1998 having something called a "mushroom cut."
It looked exactly like that.
I haven't gone to a professional to have my hair cut since that one time, eleven years ago.
(Un-coincidentally, that is exactly when I started wearing dresses...because I looked so much like a boy from the mid-nineties. Up until then, I dressed rather tomboy-ishly.)
Until today.
HAIR CUT DAY!
Why? Well, you may have noticed that I am a bit scarce in the blogosphere lately...and it's because I'm getting married at the end of the month. You may have heard that planning a wedding drives potential brides crazy from the stress. This is true. Also, there is a fair amount of pressure to "look good" on the big day, so I finally caved in and went to the salon, bravely, with picture in hand, again.
(A different salon, on the advice of a friend, of course.)
Here is the picture I showed the stylist.
I said that I wanted it to look pretty much exactly like this.
She then asked me if I wanted "side bangs."
Don't get me wrong - I love side bangs on everybody else. They're super cute. On me, they'd curl up, get wacky-wavy, and get stuck in my glasses frames, to be ripped out repeatedly every time I take off my frames. So I said no. But really, I should have said I DO NOT SEE SIDE BANGS IN THIS PHOTO and then just run away.
Soooo....this is what happened.
And yes, I understand that the salon would probably have someone cut it again for free...but there isn't enough left in the middle to make that beautiful, fancy, diagonal line anymore.
I'm thinking that it might be time to shave it? And then wait another fifteen years before consulting a professional.
Well, anyway. Lots of people say "I could have done that" to insult someone else's work. But I really could not have done this - and I say that with the full authority of having spent a decade cutting my own hair.
This is what my hair looked like this morning, before my new haircut - or in other words, how it looks when I cut it myself and then let it grow out for a year while I decide what to do with my hair for the wedding.
Comment below with a crazy suggestion for what to do next with my hair
(mohawk? a fictional blend of two well-known styles?)
and I'll pick my favorite one (on May 10th) and send you a silly postcard in the mail, featuring an illustration of your suggestion.
Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go blow a thousand million bubbles off the balcony.
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