Seriously? Was I speaking Japanese?
I decided to get my hair cut on the way home from work tonight. Because my reunion is coming up and because my hair is too long, too frizzy, too blah and completely styleless.
And I've known about my reunion for quite a few weeks now. But I just hadn't landed on that perfect haircut. Not yet. Not that I hadn't been studying everyone's hair that I crossed paths with.
Anyway, I headed to a local haircut store that I've been to many times before. And once there, I thumbed through the 1st magazine I saw. Mariska Hargitay was on the cover wearing a slinky purple dress and showing off some very glamourous hair.
"Make me look like that," I told my hair dresser. "But don't cut any off the back. I want to grow that part out."
And I watched as my hair dresser began transforming me into Mariska Hargitay... but without the little purple number.
'Cept the hair dresser didn't stop. And she didn't stop. And... she didn't stop. And I prayed she knew what she was doing. And I prayed some more. Finally I stopped her and said, "It's getting kinda short."
She stopped, looked at me like I was absolutely crazy... and explained that my hair was heavy and that to "lighten" it up she had to take a bit more off.
"But the back?"
She said, "What? You didn't want layers back there?"
"NO I DIDN'T!"
And she stopped. But it was too late. WAY too late.
I'd post a picture of what happened to me... but I'll just let you imagine it for yourself.