This past weekend we went up to Chi-Town to spend time with a bunch of really awesome people including two of my most favorite friends in the world! Since our camera died before we even took the first picture I borrowed these pics from the talented Bryana.
I hate getting my haircut. Mostly because I am uncomfortable with potentially awkward situations and sitting all alone for an hour with a random stranger is on a par with a bad first date. So, awkwardphobia keeps me from regularly clipping my locks. Instead of going to the salon every six weeks (as prescribed byâ€¦well, who decided that was the standard anyway?), I am â€œluckyâ€ to sit down in that soft, spiraling chair more than 4 times a year.
My slight bout of social anxiety isnâ€™t the only matter holding me back from routine mane-tenance; my penny-pinching habits also keep my hair out from under the scissors. It seemed, not so long ago, I could get washed, cut, styled, spritzed, sprayed, massaged, you name it, all for about $15.99. Iâ€™m not sure what happened to this deal or where I ever found it but it seems that even the minimalist canâ€™t receive two ale cart hair services for less than $18.
After several bad (but inexpensive) mall haircuts I decided to try a few local independent salons within walking distance of my office. On several occasions I came away with a decent do, but the depleting funds in my wallet lead me to believe I was getting ripped off like waxed eyebrows.
I waited 4 months before getting another haircut. When I was at the point where I could no longer see because my shaggy bangs were extending past my eyelids I began searching the internet for a very hairy discount. Mastercuts, also only a few blocks from my office, boasted a $2 off any cut coupon. I decided to give them a chance. When I stepped into the shop, I immediately noticed and aura of testosterone. When it was finally my turn to sit in the hot seat, I pointed out my observation to the female hairdresser who then commented: â€œYeah, like 80% of our clientele is male.â€ I should have got up as soon as she finished that statement, but that seemed more awkward than the conversation we were about to have; which included her high school boyfriend pressing charges against an overweight â€œbuddyâ€ that sat on (and completely caved in) the hood of his truck earlier that day. And again, when more than 50% of her conversation (because she definitely owned it) was about her tricked-out truck, it might have been smart to walk away.
I didnâ€™t want my hair washed because it was an extra 3 bucks and the whole point of going there was to save, right? So, she wetted my hair down with a spritzer bottle, which I thought was a little lazy. Then she trimmed next to nothing off of my hair and kept asking me what I wanted to do with my layersâ€¦except I donâ€™t have layers. And when it was time to trim my bangs she cut them straight across my face like Cleopatra. I definitely used the word â€œswoopy bangsâ€ but apparently that wasnâ€™t in her vocab. I think she could see the look of panic across my face as she turned me into a B.C. Egyptian Queen. She said, â€œDon’t worry. I had a girl totally freak out once when I tried to cut her bangs like this. I promise it will look great.â€ She definitely did not deliver on that promise, when I walked out of the shop and got into the car Jason just laughed and laughed and laughed. Finally, once he had contained himself he said, â€œYou look like you just walked out of the 80â€™s.â€ And that concludes my worst haircut ever. You definitely get what you pay for in the hair market.