Yesterday I went for the second time to the nearby cosmetology school for a haircut. My first time there wasn’t an awful experience, but I wouldn’t say the greatest. This time I went in for just a trim. It was only going to be $8, and they couldn’t really mess it up, and a trim couldn’t take that long. I made sure I said trim so that they didn’t wash it, and style it, and flat iron it for 5 hours, and then charge more than I was expecting. So they take me right back and put me in a chair. I made sure to tell her again I wanted all my layers trimmed (See, I mentioned the trim again and subtly told her that I already had layers just in case she didn’t notice on her own. She was only a student…). Then she starts cutting. I think. I can barely even hear the scissors snipping…I was actually wondering what she was doing back there. Then I asked how much she was cutting off. “Oh not even an inch.” Well, I actually wanted a good bit taken off…so perhaps I misled her with my insistence on just a trim. But I tried to explain that I hadn’t cut it in a few months, and it was pretty shaggy, and she could take off a whole inch if she wanted. And so the scissors quietly snipped away.
While she’s cutting my hair, I’m facing the rest of the salon. Though it is a cosmetology school, they have a full salon for the students to work in. And apparently they have to keep a full staff on hand for walk-ins like me. But I was the only customer there. So while I’m getting my haircut, I can see the rest of the students working on fake heads with fake? real? hair. I guess they had to be practicing, and since there weren’t any real people for them to practice on, they were using these heads. There were little metal stands that came out of the counter at each haircutting station with one little pole sticking up, and the heads were all stuck on this pole. So I sat there waiting, and watching about six other students working on the hair of decapitated heads on spikes.
An hour later – apparently they don’t teach time management at cosmetology school – my stylist turns me around in the chair to face the big mirror. And, besides my hair being extremely frizzy and bushy from being brushed through a bazillion times, it doesn’t look any different than when I walked in. She did something, cause she was moving around my chair for an hour, and there was hair on the floor. I figured out that she managed to get rid of my layers, somehow missing out on my mention that I wanted to keep them.
She asks “Is that what you want?” I could tell she was trying to do what I asked her, but she was looking at me like I’d be crazy to walk out into public looking like that. And, at this point, I had had a long day. And a headache. And I didn’t want to spend anymore time there. So I just thanked her, told her it usually wasn’t so bushy, paid my measly $8 and left. For $8, I couldn’t really complain about anything. Also, I was just going to go home and wash and style it myself.
And when I got home, I got the scissors out thinking, “I can do my own layers, it’s not that hard.” And chopped away. When Ben got home and I asked what he thought, he said he didn’t even notice I got a haircut, so it must not look terrible. So if you see me, and it looks like some child got hold scissors and hacked at my hair, well, it’s because one did. But at least it’s not just some boring brown blob hovering around my head that makes me look like a mom from the 80s.
After two tries I don’t know if I will go back to the cosmetology school. But hubs and I decided that we could probably afford to go a little bit above the cosmetology school. So next time, it’s off to Super Cuts. And hopefully it will be uneventful.