In case you don't know (and I don't see why you would), I really, really dislike getting my hair cut. The prospect of making small talk with the stylist is not something I particularly enjoy, and I always feel that I'm not good at explaining what I want my hair to look like, and fear that it will look ridiculous. These two factors, along with the ever-present factor of being busy with other things, tend to make me procrastinate getting my hair cut WAY past its due. So, if you've been wondering why I seem to be wearing my hair in a ponytail all the time, that's why: because my hair had gotten to the point where it was so long and thick that it was completely unmanageable in its natural state, and took forever to straighten. And I live in Dallas, and it's hot. So ponytail it is.
However, being on vacation, I have an abundance of time to get my hair cut. And so off I went to the Custom Cuts today. I've never been one of those fancy beauty parlor girls for getting my hair cut. On the contrary, it's $20 haircuts all the way for me. Great Clips, Super Cuts - those kinds of places. Since I don't do the whole hair coloring thing, this isn't ever really a problem. My hair always turns out just fine.
BUT...there is a "but."
Since I am the queen of hair cut procrastination, my haircuts always turn into unnecessarily dramatic affairs. Although I've had roughly the same haircut for the past 3 years, I can never just ask for a "trim," because I've put off the haircut to the point that I need at least 1.5-2 inches taken off. And that can be a DRAMATIC change. Furthermore, my hair is super thick and wavy and likes to portion itself off into chunks, which can lead to a misrepresentation of the actual haircut immediately after the act of hair cutting.
And that is what happened today, when I arrived back home and looked in the mirror to see Peter Brady staring back at me.
At first I thought it was Greg Brady, but upon further observation, it was definitely Peter. In any case, there was something very distinctly "1970s teenage boy" about it.
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| Not trendy. |
"MOM!" I shouted...
"Yes?"
"Look at my hair!"
"It's cute!"
"I look like a guy from the 70s!"
...silence.
"No, not so much..."
...from upstairs: "I WANT TO SEE THIS!!!"
That would be my sister. I walk up the stairs.
"Look," I say.
Hannah is silent. Then there's laughter.
"I KNEW IT!!!!" I say, frantically starting to push my hair around, running my fingers through it in every possible direction.
"No," Hannah protests, "it's only because you pointed it out. It really doesn't look bad."
Over the next twenty minutes, I asked Hannah about fifteen times, "Are you sure it doesn't look bad???" Finally, determined to look like the lovely young modern woman that I am and not like a pubescent 70s TV actor, I heated up the straight iron and set to flattening my unruly hair into a more sleek and sophisticated version. With some help from Hannah on the back portions (amidst more "ARE YOU SURE IT LOOKS OKAY?"'s), and a great amount of brushing, and about an hour of not looking in the mirror, I was convinced that, no, my hair did NOT look awful, and no, I did NOT actually look like Peter Brady. In fact, I think it's quite cute. At any rate, it's much more summer-friendly than the bushel of hair that had grown atop my head over the last few months.
And so, my friends, I can promise you that you will not be embarrassed to be seen with me the next time we get together. To give you a more realistic vision of my hair, it's shoulder length with long layers and some face framing layers. In fact, it's not that much different than my hair has been for most of this year, but with somewhat shorter layers toward the front. I'd post a picture of my hair, so that you can see it's non-Brady-esque qualities, but it's after midnight and I'm typing this in bed and my hair is all smushed up against a pillow and therefore not at it's finest. Besides, some things are best left to mystery...
As long as those mysteries don't involve the story of a man named Brady...
Hahaha! What's really funny is I often think my hair looks like that of a 1970s young boy. My hair is flat and I wear it to the side so its just long enough to be reminiscent of a young boy on the brink of manhood during the 70s. I'll demonstrate if we skype later. We should go out together with our 70s boy hair and see how many people recognize us as the partridge family or something.
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