My hair emergency

To being with, I've had hair emergencies before. Mostly self-imposed. My first hair emergency was when I was in kindergarten and I got ahold of a pair of scissors the day before picture day. Thankfully I do not have that picture to share. My next great hair emergency was when I was 16 and the going thing was to hang your head upside down and cut your hair, so to easily layer it. It would've worked out fine had I not taken such a drastic amount off. The top layer was above by shoulders and the rest down to the bottom of my shoulder blades. I called a friend up, crying, and she came over and exclaimed "Oh my god, what do you want me to do?!" With tears in my eyes, I responded "Just cut it all off". So my long gorgeous hair turned into a short shoulder-length cut within minutes. Recently all my hair emergencies have been much less drastic (still almost all of them caused by me).

Until now. Most of you are aware of the dilemma that I faced, having moved far away from my hair stylist in San Diego. Had I really thought this through, I would've just stuck with her. I mean, I drive down there to get my braces adjusted... I could've just tacked on an extra appointment to one of those days and gotten my hair done. Well, it's "just hair" right? Yeah, so how did Sampson lose all his power when Delilah cut off his hair?

Since I start the academy in a week, but didn't feel like making the drive all the way down to San Diego, I decided it was time to be brave, and not so materialistic about my hair. After all, it's just hair...yeah. My ends were fried and I just needed a trim. I didn't need a new haircut, just a trim. Like 1/2 to 1 inch off the ends. Nothing new. Just a trim. So when the lady asked me how much I wanted off, I said an inch. One inch. Like nothing longer than your index finger sort of inch. Preferrably nothing longer than your thumb. I didn't add what I was thinking: that the shortest layer should not be any shorter than shoulder length, because that would mean cutting off 4 inches of my hair, and who would mistake 4 inches for an inch?

Behold, I have the new-milenium version of the mullet.

The shortest layer is above my ear. Meaning that at some point, she cut more than 4 inches off. Not even "oops, that may have been 2 inches". No, more like 4.

I should've known something was up when she gave me a funny look after I said "I really don't like the layered look, I just want my hair to hang down right". I nearly cried when she said with glee "Oooh, look, it's all fluffy!". OMG. That's right Debbie, I said it. O. M. G.

I know you're all wondering if I told her I didn't like it. Well at the hair place, it still looked relatively decent and I didn't take time to really scrutinize it. But by the time I got home, I kept wondering my my hair felt like it kept getting in my face. So I thought maybe it was how she styled it. I attempted to wash the style right out of it this morning, and this is how it turned out. Not good.

I can't tell you how much I want to cut it all off. But I wont. I'm going to man up and handle it. My hair stylist (the real one... in San Diego) told me hair grows on average 1/2 inch per month. So if I let it grow out a few months, then have the bottom layer trimmed (by my real stylist... in San Diego), then eventually my hair will be much more practically layered. Some of you may wonder what the back looks like. I don't. I refuse to look at it. I refuse to know. Thank god for pony-tails, hats, tissue, and friends who tell you it really isn't all that bad (and that after all, it's just hair).

I just want to cry.