Bad Hair Day

Today I added a new entry to my all-time Top Five List of Things I Never Want to Hear:

"Oh my God! What was I thinking? I must have completely spaced on your style while I was cutting your hair!"

I'll just give you a moment to let that soak in.

I had my hair cut the day before yesterday. When I left the salon, it looked a little...different. But it wasn't until I got home and took a good look in the mirror that I realized my stylist had been channeling Carol Brady, circa 1975. Do you remember that little bob with the mullet sticking out the bottom? I didn't, either, until I saw it on my head.

We went to Disneyland yesterday for my husband's birthday, and I spent the whole day trying to shake my too-long side bangs out of my eyes. My husband finally threatened me with a Hello Kitty barrette. After that, I walked behind him.

Today I went back to my stylist and mentioned, ever so courteously (because she really is thebeststylistever and has always done a great job in the past), that my bangs were a bit too long and could we possibly do something about them.

I suppose I should have stopped her when she sat me in the chair and asked me, a little vaguely, whether I was sure I usually had short bangs. Um. Yeah. Pretty sure.

I know I should have stopped her when she started grabbing big hunks of hair from the top of my head and chopping them off, commenting the whole time, "I just don't see how this is going to work." Which, by the way, is a close runner-up for my Top Five list.

It wasn't until she stopped chopping and glared at my head for a while that she finally asked me how she usually cuts my hair. Maybe it's just me, but I kind of think that's the sort of question that should come before the scissors, not after. Especially when the answer is "much longer on the top and not feathered." And it was at this point that she let loose with the above exclamation, which pretty much stunned me into silence for the remainder of the visit.

On the plus side, I no longer look like Carol Brady, circa 1975. On the minus side, I now look a whole lot like Pat Benatar, circa 1985. In fact, I look a whole lot like me, circa 1985, except without the parachute pants and the jacket with all the zippers. Which I suppose is some small consolation.

But since my hair is now roughly four inches too short on top, there's really not much I can do about it until it grows out. In a few months, I'm going to shoot for Meg Ryan, circa 1995. Eventually I should make it back to this millennium.

Anyone know any good hat patterns?