<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d2266529344607186388\x26blogName\x3dThe+Apathist\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://theapathist.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_GB\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://theapathist.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d884683321372852148', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Friday, January 23, 2009
Oh Dear...

I know I've been trying to avoid real ranting posts recently (my last 25 entries are on Xanax), but I've just had the worst haircut ever, again (remember Hair-gate 2007?). Well it hapened again, but worse. What is wrong with hairdressers? No, really.
This is an exact transcript of what happened:

Her: So what were you wanting today?

Me: I just wanted a trim and a blow dry.

Her: Right, how much do you want off?

Me: An inch, inch and a half max.

Her: So, about this much?

*shows me an inch*

*Me thinking: Great, a hairdresser who knows how much an inch is. Finally!*

Me: Yep

Her: And your fringe?

Me: I'm trying to grow it out. So that can stay as it is thanks.

Her: Ok right.

*we go through the motions of washing and she puts in conditioner AND some other crap even though I tell I don't want it because products make my hair look shit. Then the combing, and finally the haircutting part. I wear glasses, and I'm blind without them, I'm also weak as hell when I'm in a hairdressing chair, so a lot of the time if I'm not sure what's going on, I ignore it. She finishes cutting and goes to find a hairdryer*

*Me thinking: She has to FIND a hairdryer? We're in a hair salon, there should be hairdryers at every station...My hair looks short. Really short. Jesus, how much did she take off? I said an inch and half max but I'm missing at least 3. I wonder if all hairdressers are really as crappy with hair as normal people - I bet they just make mistakes but instead of finding a new career, they just cut more hair...MY hair. Hell, if I wanted an awful haircut, I would've hacked away at it myself, plus I wouldn't have had to pay for the priviledge.*

Her: Right, now, do you want it blow dried and straightened?

Me: Erm, no, I have flat hair anyway, so the blow drying alone will be fine thanks.

Her: Any products?

Me: No thanks, like I said, I have flat hair and products weigh it down.

*She brushes my hair, AND THEN PUTS TWO PRODUCTS IN!!!*

Her: You have dry ends so these will just add a bit of moisture and shine.

Me: Err...Okay.
*Me thinking: Lady, I'm at least 2 sizes above the clothing size that society says I should be, I have a short neck and broad shoulders, my calves are bigger than my wrist. What makes you think I need something else to be neurotic about? Also, how can I have dry ends, when you just cut the ends off? Moisture and shine? I'm not applying for freaking Crufts (British dog show)*

*She then proceeds to blow dry my hair - do you remember when hairdressers used to be able to blow dry your hair with a round brush and a dryer? Yeah, me too, and that's still how I like it, unfortunately the lady working on my hair doesn't know how, and forgets that I don't want it straightened either, so she whips out a pair of GHDs (the devil's hair straighteners) and proceeds to straighten my hair to within an inch of it's life. Does anbody like having poker straight, flat hair? No, so why would I ?!*

At the end of this ordeal, I actually thank her about 5 times, pay her and run off to Topshop to sort it out in the changing rooms with 5 hairpins and a scarf...I looked like a boy.

Labels:

7 comments