(dim the lights)
(cue Darth Vadar's March)
I have a scheduled appointment to get my hair cut today. (It's just a trim, y'all don't freak out on me.)
I haven't had a haircut in...
I know, I know. It's a travesty, crying shame, nightmare... pick your cliche.
More than anything... it's just long overdue.
Pray, Saints, Pray.
**Apparently either the Saints were at lunch, or were just not praying for me.
I OFFICIALLY HATE getting my haircut, and having a snotty hairdresser did not help the situation.
I walked in with my hair in a bun. When I took it down, she gasped and said, "Why didn't you tell us you had so much hair on the phone?"
stunned silence. you could hear crickets chirping.
Then she asked, "do you want to be shampooed?" I nodded. "Well then, why didn't you mention that on the phone?"
I wanted to say... "Why didn't you ask?" but decided that glaring at her would be more effective.
I asked her to cut off the dead ends. I told her that I knew it would be about an inch and a half, maybe two.
She cut off SIX in some places.
And my hair cuts into a point.
And thus, I recommend that, should you ever need to have anything done to your hair, don't get it done in Dalton. I've tried, multiple times, to get something done that doesn't look terrible in this town, but I can't make any headway. Pun intended. So, it's official. Dalton is the worst place to have your hair did. EVAH.