Little Shop of Hairers

Okay, so apparently I lied on Thursday's post.  You know how when you get your hair done at a salon you reserve judgement on the cut because you know that it will never, ever look the same way again?  Or at least not until you go back?

Yeah, me too.  I can do pretty well styling other people's hair, but not particularly my own.   As a result, when I leave any salon, my hair will look good for approximately one day or until I rewash my hair, whichever comes first.

Earlier today I did just that.  I washed my hair.  I washed away the professional styling and returned my hair to its natural state--half-assed.

After it dried, I brushed through it, discovering to my chagrin that my new guy Ricky had not, in fact, improved upon the choppiness over my ears like I thought he had.  I specifically asked him to blend the layers on top into those at the bottom more smoothly.  It didn't happen.  If anything, he made it worse.

I am now the dubious possessor of a mini-mullet.  Awesome.

Oh, Ricky, I had such high hopes for you.  True, you did a decent job with the color and true, you didn't totally screw up giving me some texture and lift on top.  But a mullet?  Really??  

Now I'm probably going to have to let my hair grow out to an unmanageable length then go back to Memphis to get it fixed.  Why do hairstylists here hate my hair so much?  Sigh.

Really, Ricky??  I look like Carol Freakin' Brady, the Ginger Model.