Haircuts from Hell

I tell you, I am the worst when I decide to get my hair trimmed. I get so obsessive it's like I have got to go out right then and there and get it done. Last year I was kind of tired of the cropped short hairstyle I'd been keeping and figured I'd let it grow out....so had only about three haircuts all year.

The first was last January, and ended as a horrible, terrible, God-awful cut, or should I say major earth-shattering catastrophe. We had only lived here for about a month and I had broken my arm in the infamous ice-covered-sidewalk-at-Outback Steakhouse-incident. I was no good at doing anything with my hair seeing how my arm was useless and it takes two hands (for me anyhow) to do my hair. So my brilliant idea..."get a haircut. something nice and easy to style". We didn't know much about the new area and I decided to go with SuperCuts. It was near our house. Mistake. The place was empty and eventually a girl came staggering out of the back area looking like she was high off of something definitely illegal. And she was wearing a winter coat for God's sake. She proceeded to whack off my hair. She was creepy. And I was utterly convinced she was actually robbing the place and had the real certified hairdresser tied up in the back. I was afraid to complain thinking she might whip out her .45, so paid quietly and sprinted out. Once we got to the car I begged Greg to drive around till we found another salon that was open at 8.30pm. We went across town and found a legitimate establishment, where upon once I got into the chair and took off my winter hat the girl stated, "what in the world happened to you??". So point proven about drugged up weirdo salon robber from an hour previous who could not cut hair at all.

Fast forward to this past December, having had only 3 trims all year long. My hair had grown out about to my shoulders but was still different lengths here and there with all the layers that had been contained within all year. So having a delusional moment a few weeks after my surgery in January I got a haircut. I wanted a nice sleek chin length bob style. The hairdresser obliged and then I got an urge to say, "go a bit shorter." So she did. Now it was slightly above my chin. Once I got home I was annoyed to realise it was a bit longer on one side than the other. I held out about six weeks and got another trim on Patrick's Day. Same salon, different hairstylist who informed the manager who trimmed it last time was gone. Like as in no longer works there. Not a good sign when the place you must trust runs through employees like there's no tomorrow. Hesitantly I let her do the trim to even it up. It was decent, but something still was not quite right.

This found me, last week, wanting to do something about the hair situation. Maybe it was my fevered state of being ill. Maybe I am just going mad. At any rate, three weeks later round about, here I go, this time to a salon in the mall. This girl did an alright job, but still not what I was describing to her. I ignored my hair the remainder of Wednesday after the visit, but Thursday tried to do something, anything, with it. It was indeed cut in an inconsistent style. And it seemed longer in the back than the sides. Just plain....ick. Back to the drawing board.

Thursday night I tossed and turned in bed, thanks to the decongestant medication I had taken. It usually makes me incredibly sleepy and loopy if I take it during daylight hours. So my reasoning, "ande, take some before bed, you'll sleep fine." Wrong. It kept me feeling jittery and restless all night. I gave up at exactly 6.23am, made some tea, and began searching the phone book for a ritzy expensive salon that could most likely straighten out the bird's nest I was currently calling my hair.

As luck had it, I was able to book an appointment for that very afternoon. Yes, it was expensive. But the hairstylist was wonderful and even though I am back to a short style I feel heaps better. Bad thing is when my hair is short more white hair shows through. Well, I am almost 31 you know, so who cares.

Saturday consisted of me waking up after very little sleep, finding myself sore, headachy and more congested than I had been last week. I broke down and agreed to go to the Emergency Room, especially seeing how my fever was getting high. I never go there unless absolutely necessary, the germs in that place must multiply by the millisecond. As I suspected...severe sinus infection, accompanied by high fever. All extremely fun things as you can imagine. I got my steroids, I got my Zithromax antibiotic, and orders to definitely see my ENT doctor soon since he hasn't scraped/vacuumed the goop out of my sinuses since December. That's a record for me considering I usually try to get that done about every six weeks.

Hmm, oddly that's the amount of time they say you should have between haircuts too.