Mom and Reid rolled in to town yesterday and despite having driven all day my mom looked patiently at my hair pinterest board and nodded as I went over the pros and cons of each hair style. I slept on it, woke up, picked it out:
And this is what I got:
Oh mama it was an emotional hair cut! I "mis-communicated" with my stylist about the length. I wanted collar bone grazing strands like the picture and she claimed I asked for shoulder length. Never mind that it doesn't even touch my shoulders. She also cut it very bluntly and I felt too juvenile.
She got very defensive until I asked her to go get my mom (oh yeah, I brought out the big guns). Mom tried to bridge the gap in communication and my eyes started to water, then she finally got the hint. She apologized and gave my ends some texture which made it look far less childish. Now I feel much better about it, but at the time I was having some serious white girl problems. I might go back to that salon...just not with that stylist.
The rest of the day was spent sight seeing, riding trains, eating lots of tasty food, and swishing my hair from side to side. Isn't it strange when you go to grab for it and it's not there? Shampooing will be a whole different experience!