Sometimes when life is frustrating - I cut my own hair.
With very poor results.
I have done this a few times, with, in fact, disastrous results.
I cut my hair off from below my shoulders to chin length, no actually cheek length, once. It was when a boyfriend-of-the-time cast me off in favour of a French girl. I don't know why I felt the urge, but I took the scissors to my hair, Jennifer Aniston style, and sliced it off. If you've ever cut your own hair you will be well familiar with that awesome noise of the scissors crunching through hair. I could almost cut my hair off now just to hear it. It's reassuring. It's life affirming. And I'm sure I really showed that boyfriend who was boss (actually he was overseas when he decided to split with me via email - so he never knew the vengeance with which I cut my hair).
Anyway. My hair was a disaster. QUELLE HORREUR!
So I booked a professional to cut my hair.
Let's call him 'Richard'. Richard came and cut my hair at my house. It was awesome. I liked having someone come to my house to cut my hair. Like I was a geriatric in stilettos.
'Richard' cut my hair, asked whether there was any method to my hair cutting (answer: heck no), styled it, blow dried it, and then we looked in the mirror together. Imagine my HORREUR when I saw that I looked like Princess Di. I'm not kidding peeps. I looked like Princess Di, or I looked like I lived in Double Bay, sans fake tan and bleach.
When one looks at oneself in the mirror post-haircut, one is expected to rave about one's new 'do.
Me?
I piped up with "It might look better when I wash it."
It was only in hindsight that I thought how offensive that statement was to a professional hair stylist. Yes. It will look better when I, the hacker, wash my own hair, and refuse to blow dry it because I do not blow dry my own hair. Someone else does it once every two months.
I'm not sure what prompted me to recall this epic tale of War and Peace proportions, but I am sure you are mighty relieved I did. So 'fess up. Have you ever cut your own hair?
