Have You Ever...

...gotten a haircut that you hated with so much passion that you contemplated getting hammered and burying your head below ground ostrich-style until it grew out?

I never had until tonight.

I should have known better than to request a dramatic cut. But I had quickly grown bored with the straight, plain Jane bob. I wanted something shorter, more sassy. Something easy to maintain, since time is of the essence and I can't afford an hour of styling. Something that wouldn't make me dread shampooing and rinsing for fear of having Gremlins emerge from the hairballs that entangle my fingers.

I should have known by the stylist they elected that I was not getting the cream of the crop. The woman was easily in her fifties, weighed about a douce and a half and reeked of nicotine. Her expression read as though she was frustrated by her lot in life. She was obviously eager for her shift to end. But I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she just had a bad day. I'm never one to bank on first impressions. Everyone deserves a chance.

I asked for a graduated bob, short in the back but longer in the front. I wanted the longest pieces to be BELOW my chin, which I explained prior to the hair surgery. What I ended up with was a creation a la Molly Ringwald in The Breakfast Club. Minus the bangs. It is graduated but the front pieces barely meet my chin. Not exactly what I had in mind and not what I expected, given my verbal instruction.

Needless to say, I am not happy. I have actually cried tears over it, thinking of all the holiday photos that will be taken with me bearing this monstrosity. DH thinks I'm overreacting and just too acclimated to the familiar. He insists it looks good. But I think his kindness is spawned from pity. After all, he did offer to drive me to the mall to buy a hat if I was depressed. Hmmm...

Maybe I do just need to get used to it. Maybe I need a day to adapt to the change. I'm hoping it grows on me. Or else DH really will be acting as my chauffeur to Hats in the Belfry.