Ellen Scissorhands

I have come to the reluctant conclusion that there is a law at work in the universe–one I don’t particularly like.

The quality of any haircut a woman gets will drop in direct proportion to the importance of the event for which she needs the cut. The more important it is to look good, the worse you’re gonna look.

I went in for a haircut two weeks ago, knowing that the RWA national conference was coming, knowing that I hate that “just cut” look that I always seem to walk out of the salon with. Why my daughters don’t look like freshly-shorn sheep after they visit the salon is beyond me, but they don’t, and I do, so you have to work with what you’ve got, right?


Not Actually Me

Let me backtrack for a minute and say that back in April, the stylist gave me a great cut.  Sassy, yet elegant. Equally appropriate for doing laundry and attending board meeting. Not only was I very happy with it, but other people liked it, too. I know that because they told me so.

So I went back for more. Because, of course, that’s what you do when you get a great haircut at a salon, right? Sadly, the person who gave me the good cut wasn’t there.  But, they assured me, Ellen Scissorhands  was just as good. I’d be delighted with the results.

Well, I don’t know what Ellen Scissorhands did, but this haircut is not sassy, not elegant, and not delightful. It’s supposed to be kind of spiky in the back, but somehow, this stylist managed to get the 1/2 inch of hair she actually left on my head to sort of lean toward my face. All of it. All the time. It doesn’t matter what I do to it, what product I use on it, how much I spray it, gel it, mousse it, straighten it, wet it, dry it, or swear at it.

Every time I look in the mirror, I see my brother’s face with Napoleon Bonaparte’s hair, and I’m going to let you in on a little secret: That isn’t even close to how I want to look in Reno.

So what am I going to do?

What can I do?  I can either whine about it a lot, lock myself in my room, suddenly take ill and avoid Reno altogether . . .

Or I can just make the best of whatscissors-clipart I’ve got…and avoid Ellen Scissorhands next time.


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