Dejavu All Over Again

I finally got up the courage to go get my hair cut.  It had grown out to shoulder length, all one length, no layers, so I had a blank canvas as far as style went. When we went to the tea room, the lady who owns the shop had the haircut I wanted, so I asked her who her stylist was and called to make an appointment. Then, wanting to be sure about the style, I went online and found a picture of exactly how I wanted my shoulder-length hair cut and styled.

There would be no screw-ups this time as I had done my homework and even had a picture so there would be no questions: this is how I want my hair cut.

Yeah, not so much.

First, she colored it.  I’ve always been a blonde, so imagine me with brown hair with high-lights. Y likes the color but I’d rather be blonde as God intended me to be. Then, she began cutting. I refreshed her on the picture and remarked about how much I really liked the sides of the style in the picture: layered and brushed forward and really cute. She assured me she knew exactly what I wanted and kept cutting.

Well, I don’t like the color and I don’t like the cut, which looks nothing at all like the picture I brought with me or the lady whose haircut I wanted. It’s really short in the back, but long and “swoopy” in the front, which looks odd to say the least. The picture I used as my go-to do it this way tool had lots of layers that added interest to the cut. The long, swoopy pieces just make my hair look like a helmet with ear covers.

This time, it cost me $150 (yes, that’s correct) to get hair color and a cut I don’t like. I couldn’t complain when I went to the $15 haircut place as I got my money’s worth when the stylist cut it like Ellen Degeneres’s hair!  It’s taken me a year to grow that out so I could get a new cut, and now? A helmet with swoopy sides.

I’m not sure why this happens to me. I do the research, I articulate the style I want when I sit down in the chair, and I show the picture, and it still gets cut the way the stylist wants, rather than what I tell her I want. I thought using the stylist for the woman whose hair I admired and having a picture to back it up would do the trick, but I was wrong—again.

My mother was fond of saying, "It'll grow back," but in the meantime … .

UPDATE:  I went back today and told her I really did not like the haircut.  The back is fine, but the front/sides just aren't what I wanted.  We went through the whole picture, layered, cute front talk -- and I ended up with the length correct, but bangs. Bangs! Who the hell wants bangs when they are 73 years old?????  The good news is that the long swoopy pieces are gone, so I'll just have to wait out growing out bangs again.