Bad Hair, Bad Day!Posted by: Shannon Noel on November 20th, 2012
Today I am sad. It’s kind of ridiculous, sort of embarrassing and I feel way too old for this sort of thing but…I’m having a bad hair day! And it’s all because I got a bad haircut. My friends are being supportive, encouraging me with smiles and words: “It looks really healthy,” “It really frames your face,” and “It’ll grow back.” And they’re right. But I am still sad. It is not what I wanted. I asked for a simple trim to my shoulder length bob and I left the salon with a chin length choppy shag, fringy bangs and a brand new charge to my credit card.
I’m also angry. Angry that after 40 (well 34? maybe) years of getting my haircut by a professional I still cannot speak up when the artistry is happening and I am not liking what I see. I am so overly trusting and polite that while my locks were dropping by the inches I just sat there thinking that my very hot French stylist knew exactly what he was doing. But the thing is, I knew what I wanted when I walked in and I wasn’t getting it. So why didn’t I stop him? I have been through this before. Each of my friends has been through this. My mother has been through this. I should have learned my lesson the first time, or the second time, or the, oh goodness, there have been sooo many times! Why do we women keep keeping our mouths shut? I have some ideas but I’m going to need more time to write that piece. Something about needing to be liked? I’ll call my therapist and ask her but for now…
Back to the point, I am sad today. I am angry and I feel ugly. Deep down I know this is silly. I know that this is a very minor problem to have. And I know that beauty comes from within. But I am a sleep deprived, full time working mom of two toddler boys that are in the midst of competing temper tantrums right now. They go from kicking me to punching me in less than a second and last night a tiny toy whale fell off of the bed and no one has slept since. The last thing I need is a bad haircut.
So what should I do? My go-to self help is to ask myself this question: If you had a daughter and she was in your shoes right now what would you tell her? Well, I would smile and tell her that her hair looks really healthy, it frames her face and that it will grow back. And then I would hold her tiny, tear filled face in my hands and say, “Honey, you are beautiful no matter what – beauty comes from here” and I would tap her little chest on the heart side and then I would kiss her pinched up angry forehead and say, “let’s go get some ice cream and maybe on the way we’ll pick up some fancy bobby pins, we can always pin it back!”
On my way to Target.