What I Didn’t Know I Wanted

 

 

I’m always up for a good bargain even if it seems a little too good to be true.  Not that I don’t have my wits (what little I have) about me and follow whatever the Pied Piper happens to be playing.  I’ve referred to my boyfriend, Craig before and all those wonderful things I’ve been lucky to receive.  In fact, last Saturday I found my desk for my soon-to-be office for five whole clamshells!  Just wait until you see it.

 

Anyway, back to this post and why I’m daring enough to post a picture of me front and center.  Craig told me about free haircuts given by the Supercuts chain as part of their yearly training.  It happened to be in my neck of the woods and the price was right.  I have to admit, I was a little scared.  Most of my rash, “I need a haircut” whims where no appointments are necessary have been… no the best.  Free added a whole new dimension of what if’s.  I went with Miss Is, who needed trim as well and made our way to the back of the store to sign in.  An hour wait – not bad considering – so we perused Freddies next door.  You would think that I would have an idea of what I was after by this point; think again.

 

Fifteen minutes left and the stylists (6) were finishing up their current freebie clients.   I flipped through a seriously old hair-do book; it was like jumping into a time machine and landing in 1985 instead of 1935 when I personally think hair was much, much better if you like the glamorous girly thing.  Time was up and I picked what remotely kept my length.  I was so disappointed in myself, same ol’ same ol’.

 

Is was easy.  Three inches off the bottom to get rid of the “ick” and taper her bangs.  No further instructions needed.  She sat like a pose able statue and it all came off without a hitch.  Whew, one down – one success.

 

After plopping my wide-load into THE CHAIR, I flipped through the book and showed the gal what I was after with the exception that I wanted all my “ick” off too. 

 

“Where do you want your top layer?”  she asked, snapping gum between her teeth like the young, barely twenty-something she was.

 

“Here?”  I motioned cautiously to my chin.  That was all the conversation needed I guess.

 

Chunks start flying and I’m trying not to freak out.  Even wet it doesn’t even begin to look remotely like the picture. Being the good non-paying customer I am and having a tendency to live on the “wild side” for this sort of thing, (right, Stace) I just went with it.

 

Of course, I left the store with a damp, shaggy mess now that my curl was setting in and practiced my deep breathing techniques on the drive home.  Is was good; Mom not so much.  Once through the door, I bee-lined it to the bathroom to plug in the 2” curling iron and slathered myself up with serum.  A few quick curls here, a couple there and I was really happy. 

 

I love my cut.  I love my free cut. I love my free cut I didn’t know I wanted.