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Why is it that the mirror at the hairdresser's is some kind of magical truth serum? I sit down, and suddenly I'm face to face with every questionable life choice I've ever made. I'm looking at myself, thinking, "Who is that? Oh right, it's the person who thought blue streaks would be a good idea in high school." And the worst part is when they show you the back of your head. I don't know about you, but I have no idea what the back of my head looks like on a regular day, let alone after a haircut. They could be sculpting a masterpiece back there, or I could have a family of birds nesting. I'm clueless.
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You know, I recently went to the hairdresser, and I swear it's like walking into a battlefield. You sit there in that chair, and you're just praying to the hair gods that your stylist doesn't interpret "a trim" as "time to try out for the next Star Wars movie." I mean, I'm all for change, but there's a fine line between a makeover and a makeunder. Last time, I asked for some layers, and I walked out with a hair situation that had more levels than a complicated video game. I had layers I didn't even know existed!
It's like a game of hair roulette. You sit down, they drape that cape around you like it's the cloak of invisibility, and you can't help but wonder if you'll come out looking like a rockstar or a poodle with an identity crisis.
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Can we talk about the pressure of making small talk at the hairdresser's? It's like they're training for the Small Talk Olympics, and you're just there hoping you don't trip over your words and end up with a buzz cut when you asked for bangs. I'm terrible at it. They ask, "How's your day?" and I panic. Do they really want to know about my day? Because my day involves me talking to my cat like he's a therapist and binge-watching Netflix. I can't tell them that! So, I end up saying something like, "Oh, you know, the usual. Just saving the world one bad hair day at a time."
And then there's that awkward moment when they're washing your hair. They tilt your head back, and you're just lying there, wondering if this is how you'll be discovered for a shampoo commercial. Spoiler alert: it's not.
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Sometimes, I think about saving money and cutting my own hair. How hard can it be, right? Famous last words. I tried it once, and I ended up looking like a discount version of a famous celebrity, but not in a good way. More like, "Is that supposed to be Britney Spears, or did a lawnmower attack you?" I had this grand vision of a sleek, sophisticated bob, and I ended up with something that resembled a geometry problem gone wrong. I swear, the only angles I understand are acute, obtuse, and "Oh my gosh, what have I done?"
So, note to self: Leave the hairdressing to the professionals, unless I want to start a new trend called "The Regret Cut.
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