Forgive Me Hair Salon, For I Have Sinned…It’s Been A Loooong Time Since My Last Professional Haircut


Okay people, here goes. I’m about to open up with a very personal and yes, embarrassing confession. If you’re the squeamish type, now would be a good time to bow out. No one will judge you. Nay, I am the one who stands in judgement…and I ask those of you still remaining to please be kind.

So…(deep breaths, deep breaths)…here goes. I don’t know what my deal is, but just know that I have good intentions.  Story of my life – I’m loaded with good intentions. It’s the follow-through that I struggle with. You’ve probably already figured out where this is going, and you’d be pretty much correct. But…and here’s where it gets kind of weird…that’s not all.

Yes, I’m one of those people who leaves a hair salon, feeling like a new person. My hair is super soft as I hungrily run my fingers through the perfectly precisioned layers. And do I even NEED to mention the amazing SMELLLLL of newly coifed hair? No, I don’t. It’s intoxicating. So, upon exiting the salon, WHY can’t I bring myself to schedule an appointment for my next heavenly encounter? I don’t know. I suppose part of it is that, well, let’s be honest, looking good don’t come cheap and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m nothing if not cheap. Honestly, I think that’s the bottom-line. But, I wanna look good. So, to quote a fellow writer, Shakespeare, “Therein lies the rub.”

So what’s a girl to do? (Get ready…here comes the embarrassing confession)…Well, she consults the video gods of Youtube tutorials and learns how to cut her own hair. There, I said it. Gotta admit I thought it would feel better unloading that but, it’s still just kind of embarrassing. I’m not about to hang a shingle touting hair services. I’m not that good. Or good at all. It’s just a matter of maintaining. But now I have a problem… I want to go to a REAL stylist, but I don’t want to get scolded. I really don’t need to hear, “Who cut your hair?” with that look of disdain. What is the deal with hair stylists scolding, anyway? That really grinds my gears. I’m like, Hey man, I’m embarrassed enough, you don’t have to give me a hard time about it. THAT’S why I’m a salon-hopper.  Shameless plug coming right up:

(It’s a good one, though)

So it comes down to cost and feeling like I’ve been called to the principal’s office for verbal lashing. You pros out there should really work on that.

Now if you’re wondering what my next mortifying confession is, it’s this:


If you’re wondering what the hell you’re looking at, these are eyelashes. No, I don’t pull out my eyelashes. These were a gift from my husband for my birthday a year ago. I put off going to the Lash salon but finally gave in recently, as my birthday is coming up again and he was feeling bad that I hadn’t used his generous gift (cuz, damn, lashes are expensive). Before we got started, the lash technician, Donna, warned me that lashes are addictive and, wow, they DID look great. But, remember, I’m a cheapskate and could not bring myself to pay for monthly lash fill-ins. So while I was told they’d last 2 – 4 weeks, I was determined to take the absolute BEST care of my new appendages. I was going to shock the lash world with my meticulous dedication to lash care and push that limit out to at least 5 weeks. Something very weird happened along the way though. As they started to fall out, I began saving them. I don’t know why. It became a very bizarre exercise in obsessive behavior. Someone asked me if my reluctance to bid farewell was because I thought they could be re-applied at some point. And, no, that’s not why. I’m not harboring any hopes for reattachment. Someone else suggested that maybe because they were kind of expensive, I just couldn’t bear to part with them. I don’t think that’s why either. Well, maybe a tiny bit, but that still doesn’t explain my peculiar new habit. I watch a reality show called My Strange Addiction (yet another confession I wasn’t planning on making. Yikes, this is getting ugly) and this obsession with saving my fake lashes is like something I’d see on that show. Which REALLY scares me because those people are super weird.

I don’t know… I guess I’m going to have to gather my courage and make an appointment for an actual professionally styled cut and I HAVE to throw these lashes in the garbage.  I MUST. One of these days. Baby steps, baby steps…

PS: The photo accompanying this post is NOT me. Really felt like I had to say that.


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