Saturday, March 8, 2008

I don't have a license...

...to cut hair that is.

I wanted a clipper set. So, my loving husband bought me a shiny new clipper set a few months ago (I am practical!). It has many guards and I can cut the boys' hair pretty good. They don't complain, (yet!) cause they dont know the difference! And the cool thing about this hair cutting set...it also comes with scissors and little alligator clips.

I am not afraid of scissors. I found that trimming my own hair has saved me lots of money in the past. I consider myself a pretty capable individual. I like trying new things! So why was I drawn to the scissors this week?

At MOPS on Tuesday, we had a spa day. I painted my fingernails (been over 5 years!), got a foot, hand and back massage, AND I got my hair styled. The stylist who was doing the demonstration recommended layers for me, since I have fine hair and it would give me more body. She showed me how to do beachy-waves...very cute. Even cuter if you have layers and long hair.

After mulling the thought over a couple days, I got a wild hair Thursday. I had a very nice view in my mind of what I wanted my hair to look like. Kind of like when you see a nice landscape, you just want to paint it. On a big canvas. Like Bob Ross...happy little trees.

Layers. How hard could layers be anyway? Heck, I've trimmed my hair tons of times...And, I really needed a cut anyhow. I even have sharp scissors and those little alligator clips to keep my hair sectioned.

Did I ever mention I can't paint. I read Ree's Blog the other day, about how she can't paint. I can totally sympathize with her. She longs to do it, but knows she can't. I, too, have to accept the fact that I will never be a painter. Unless its paint by numbers. Maybe.

Where was I. Oh yeah...The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I mean...well, South Dakota, and Scissors...although there are some people who can carve wood with a chainsaw and they do fantastic work...but that would involve trees and I have already established I can't paint. And I have yet to operate a chainsaw. I will move on before I get anymore thoughts or wild hairs.

Oh My.

I have to realize and accept that I have no formal training on cutting hair. I am not a stylist, and I should not be experimenting with scissors. It's a good thing I didn't pay myself in advance. I made a few mistakes. If you just googled "How to cut layers" and you are thinking about doing it yourself...don't. Get professional help. Just take my advice. Back away from the scissors.

My first mistake was even thinking of cutting layers in my hair, and then my next mistake was continuing to attempt to fix what I had done. Funny thing is, you are supposed to start at the top and work your way down. What was I thinking? I have had LONG hair. It was nice. My husband likes liked my hair. My new 'do didn't seem that bad until I washed it, and then tried to style/curl it, with beachy-waves.

Thankfully, I could still pull it into a ponytail. I couldn't do anything else with it until I had a sitter and could humble myself enough to go have someone try to salvage it. TRY.

My sweet and loving husband came home Friday...(home for the weekend-YAY!) and he was not impressed to say the least. He has always liked long hair, and I had slaughtered mine. So, today we both went in for a cut...He needed his done, and believe me, I've tried to cut his, but it just isn't as fast or as nice or as even as when they do it. (I am sticking to the boys' hair only!)

My stud looks HOT with his trimmed up, clean cut style. Since the boys were asleep in the van, he came out and sat in the van while it was my turn. The sweet, unsuspecting stylist (not the one from the spa day) didn't quite know what she was in for, since my hair was still in a ponytail.

I explained my "situation" and then took the ponytail out of my hair. She walked around it a bit. Walked around the other way. She said, "I think I can blend it, but we might have to cut a bit more off." I told her that as long as it didn't look the way it did, I was going to have to deal with it. I also explained that I needed it in a pony, if possible, and she assured me that she would try her best.

Now, blending is kinda like layering, but with more little layers, sorta. I have no clue. I just watched her. She kinda had an Edward Scissorhands frenzy about her. (Although she was not pale, a dude, and he didn't have curly black hair. She was a cute little thing!) Spray, comb, snip, snip....spray....comb. Snip, comb, snip....I tried to just find something that would be redeeming about this.

I felt lighter! My hair is definately lighter! (Anything to loose a little weight eh?)

She pointed out a couple holes I had cut in it, but that no one would notice them unless they started combing through it. She did a phenominal job, considering what she had to work with, and I can still get most of it in a pony. She didn't style it, which, I should have had her do it, but we needed to get more errands done. So after some errands, and some odd looks from my darling, I went home and used my new flat iron to attempt to style it. I tried to make it look cute. But in all honesty, the stylist did a great job blending my mess, and I think with a little practice, I could get a cute 'do out of it.

I walked out of the bathroom and my sweet and loving, yet very, very honest husband says...

"It's the worst hair style you've had since we've known each other." (He remembers seeing pictures of the short-short one..his least favorite.) "You are still beautiful (he needs glasses, by the way), but your hair is...............not."

I just have to laugh. If you were to see his face when he said that, you would too. Poor guy. I can live with it, but he only gets to see me a few times a month, and he has to look at my hair. I am so thankful he loves me even though he doesn't like my hair.

If I wasn't having a bad face day (funny, I have those every day...lol), I would take a picture of it for you. Maybe later, after I try to style it again. Oh, and there is no photographic record of what it looked like as a disaster. Unless some random stranger whipped out their phone cam and needed proof of what not to do to your hair.

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