There are worse things in life. Far, far worse. But maybe the stress of juggling jobs, eating too many meatless corn dogs and too much Speculoos, and PMS made me go a little crazy today…
While getting a trim, I tried to communicate what I wanted to the stylist and I guess I did a bad job (Rule #1: always bring a picture) and four inches later I was all “Wait, WHAT?!” leaving me with, ahem, much shorter hair than I intended.
Lady felt so bad. She confessed “This isn’t my best work” and promised me “I won’t let you leave looking like this” (which almost makes it worse? Isn’t that like the dentist interrupting the drilling to say “Oops!”) and said she wouldn’t charge me, but I gave her tip money for spending so long trying to fix it.
Then I ran home and cried.
Yes, there are far worse things than looking like Dora the Explorer on meth for a couple of months. And now I can laugh about it. And post overly staged photos trying to make myself look pretty with short(er) hair: