Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
For probably *counts on fingers* I don’t know, a LOT of years, I’ve been getting the same hair cut. A simple blunt cut to my shoulders that I eventually let grow out until I cut it back up again. Once in awhile I’ll put in a funky color or add some layers, but really, that’s about it. I’m not one of those people who looks good in trendy hair cuts so I leave those to people who do.
I blame my inability to venture out into the land of sassy haircuts on two things:
1) My mother gave me bangs in the third grade. These bangs started at approximately the nape of my neck and went to the bottom of my eyebrows. She’d cut them in a straight line across every couple of weeks. I STILL shudder when I think of bangs.
2) In a stunning fit of “I WILL LOOK LIKE AN ADORABLE PIXIEEEEE!” I allowed my friend Rory, who is neither a hairdresser, nor a great judge of anything to give me a haircut when I was in high school. The result?
I looked like a boy. I’m not a girl who can pull of that adorable pixie do no matter how hard I try.
So I stick with what looks mostly okay.
May, 2010
College Graduation, 2005.
Alex’s first birthday, 2008.
But this week, desperate for a little change, I figured I’d do something different. Which is probably not the brightest thing to do when you’re about to meet 2,000 people you’re trying to convince you’re not a Crazy Internet Middle Earth Person.
Luckily, I never claimed that my elevator ran to the top floor, so that’s precisely what I did when I went into get my hairs did. I said, “I need to do something different with my hair.”
I came out nearly sobbing. I called one of my Internet Friends, Jen, and said, “I LOOK LIKE FUCKING JOAN JETT. COME OVER NOW.”
And she did. Because I did.
Words cannot describe how upset I was until I broke out Mommy’s Little Helper:
And had a brilliant idea. Because the best ideas are always formed when you are half-drunk.
With a hair clip, lifted handily from my daughter’s unused collection, all was fixed.
Except, maybe, for my killer hangover the following morning.
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So pull up a chair and pour yourself a tall glass of vodka, Pranksters, and tell your Aunt Becky about your worst hair cut. Misery loves company, and all that.
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I’m over at Toy With Me today talking about how when you look good (heh), you feel better about yourself. Turns out that maybe Cosmo was right about something after all.
one thing is for sure…no matter what ur hair has looked like, ur skin has always been FABULOUS! wow! i’m so jealous!!!
I said I wanted long layers. I ended up with a Mrs. Brady. Moral of the story: Never let a pregnant lady who’s in a bad mood touch your head with scissors. Ever.
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
I looked like Alice fucking COOPER before I wet that shit down. I didn’t even show Twitter the worst of the pictures.
Open letter to The Daver: will pay good money for the worst of the pictures. Kthnxbai.
Bwah hahhaahahahahahaha! Melikes!!
I kinda like the way Joan Jett looked. Not quite a girl crush, but I thought she was hot.
Bangs are always a bad idea for me. They make me look like a Weeble.
Your hair looks great. You totally rock that clip. Now take an Advil and lots of water and feel better before I stalk your ass in New York.
I have basically had the same hair since HIGH SCHOOL, except it was platinum blonde in high school because Madanna was all the rage, and there was a bang incident I think. My only change up is in the fall and winter I blow it out straight, there really isnt much use in doing that during the summer.
And you look FABULOUS! Oh, and you ARE getting younger.
Let’s see… worst hair cut…. I can top that.
Picture this.. it’s the late 80’s or early 90’s and big hair was still in and I of course had big hair. It was permed and I thought that I wanted highlights. I had the silly cap on, had my mom pull my hair through the insanely small holes, and proceeded to bleach my hair. And for some reason I thought that it would look good. WRONG. I have very dark hair. It was this blondish, orangey color. It was terrible and I hated it. I couldn’t wait for it to disappear.
I can’t remember if I colored it or stuck it out because well it was a long time ago and either I’m old or have blocked the horrible time.
So that’s it. Enjoy.
I had never had my hair cut until 3rd grade when we cut it all off. Like literally. I went from hair way down my back to above my shoulders. And my hair was not happy. In fact, my hair decided that was the best time to go from stick straight to frizzy as hell. I was totally miserable. But, luckily, it came to terms with being shorter and eventually went back to stick straight again.
Because I was a super smart kid, I let my friend’s sister (who was in beauty school) cut my hair. Well, my mom let her do it. I was five. That’s below the age of consent, right? Anyway, it was a train wreck. I’ll grant that the cut might have looked good on a grown up, but as a kid? It looked like it was halfway through growing out as soon as I got it. TERRIBLE. I cried. A lot. Now I’m less scared of playing with my hair because I can always remind myself that it will grow back/fade out/go away. I already have belly pooching to worry about. The HELL I am sweating my hair 😉
I was in college in New Mexico and it was Halloween Day. I wanted a bob with layers. She didn’t know what I meant. She kept cutting and cutting and cutting and then LITERALLY walked around me with a pair of scissors, cutting in LEVELS OF HAIR. I was crying by the time I left – my hair was ridiculously short and looked like a weedwhacker came at it. Skipped the party that night out of sheer (ha!) embarrassment. Needless to say, I didn’t get my hair cut again until I moved out of that state.
I got a perm. Nuff said.
No really, I got a perm and got the hair dyed like a dark reddish auburn. Those two things together burnt my hair and I spent the next 8 months looking like a frizzed out brillo pad. Strangely enough I met my husband during that time. He has since told me that it’s a good thing I had such big breasts, because the hair was almost a deal breaker.
Oh my gosh, when I was in college, I had this faaaabulous hairdresser. I adored him. I love what he did with cuts, color, everything. I moved to another city after college and he moved up as well a short time later, which was perfect. The first time he cut my hair up hear, I was horrified. He completely chopped it – like 3 inches more than I asked for – into some weird layered pixie mess and then left these random rat tails in weird places. I don’t know what the hell came over him. I hated it and got him to fix it, but I had a business trip the next day and it was still horrid. Ugh. needless to say, I let the relationship fizzle after that.
My brother got married when my baby boy was about 18 months old, and I was a sahm with hair past my elbows. We got those wedding pictures and I saw Mama Cass where I should have been standing. Drove myself straight to the hair salon and got a short haircut. little long on top and short in the back. Hadn’t had short hair since i gave myself a trim in kindergarten. And won’t ever have it again. Yeesh. Makes my whole head look weird. Gives me anxiety to even pull my hair back, because, crap, that just makes me look bald. – not my best look either.
First grade – my mother got tired of dealing with my long hair so she gave me a bowl cut. Yeah, like a boy. I hid in my cubby at school and refused to come out all day. I looked like a museum piece, kids were walking by and staring at me. And yes, it was one of those Charlie Brown scenes when I finally did come out, with the large, loud HA HA HA’s surrounding me.
It was horrible.
It all started in 4th grade… I already have naturally wavy/curly hair, but for some reason my mom decided I needed to looking like a fucking poodle and put a perm in it. The length of my hair lifted about 3-4 inches, at least. You would think that would bad enough, right? Hell no! When the perm started growing out (which just-so-happened to be a week before 5th grade started), she got another fan-fucking-tastic idea to “get it trimmed”… I was under the assumption that “getting it trimmed” meant taking a couple inches off (which would have put my hair just below my shoulders). Again, NOPE! I was wrong there too. Apparently, “a trim” means cutting out all of the perm! Leaving my hair a beautiful 4 inches LONG! IN THE 80’s! I looked like a really bad version of George Michael! Ugh!
I’ve never had a haircut.
Oh, this is an easy one. In grade nine I let a friend dye my longish regular-brown hair Clairol Blue/Black in her mother’s bathroom (because if I had done it at home my parents would have stopped it. And murdered me). It was VERY black, and when I stood under a light it had a nice blue sheen to it. Did I mention that I’m very, very pale? And that she inexplicably missed a couple of small patches on the back of my head, so I had a small area that had Cheetah spots? I kept it for a week until even I had to admit it looked really stupid. My aunt is a hairdresser, and to fix it she had to strip all colour from my hair, TWICE, (so I also know what I look like with weirdo orangish bleached hair) and re-dye it as close to my natural colour as she could get it. I still hear about it at family occasions.
Oh dear lawd-I lived through the eighty’s so let’s just say there are pictures of me with big-ass hot rolled hair! And let’s just not talk about the perm I had in 6th grade!
Oh yes. I too tried the pixie hair cut. I looked like John Candy. No amount of pomade or hair bands could stop the ugly. It was months of torture till it grew out.
I learned the hard way not to get your hair cut while PMS’ing. I came out with a perfectly decent cut, for which I received some compliments, but I ended up sobbing at home an hour later because, even though it was nice and all, it WAS. NOT. what I wanted.
I don’t even have to think hard about this one.
Just let me say? Never go into a hair appointment in a bad mood, especially if you’re pretty much just annoyed with the universe.
Last week? Me? Bad mood. EPIC bad mood. Also? Hair appointment.
I’ve had my hair long(ish) for the past 3 or 4 years. Of those years, 75% of them featured me impatiently waiting for it all to grow out to the right length. Which it finally did! Yay!
So, I walk into my appointment, annoyed and pissed off at the world, and point blank told my hairdresser: “Cut it off. It’s a pain in the patooty and I don’t want it long anymore.” And you know what? She did what I asked. Boo.
4 years of work? Down the drain with a few clips of the scissors. I was immediately regretful. I had gone through all that hard work to look a little more girly, and now I looked like a prepubescent boy. With wrinkles.
I’m trying to be mature and look at it as a “new start” and such. So… only another 3-4 years until it grows out, right? That’s not so bad…
About 8 years ago I went to get my hair cut, and asked for short layers, emphasizing that I wanted to look like Meg Ryan. I don’t know how the stylist interpreted that into “1/2 inch long all over so it’s shorter than my husband’s”, but she did. After crying about it to my best friend, she suggested that I do something wild with it, like dye it jet black. I took her up on that dare. I’m naturally a dark blonde, so you can imagine the drastic change. I am so not able to get away with a goth look. My husband was wise and kept his mouth shut, but I think my grandmother was ready to excommunicate me from the family. I tried to keep up with the blonde roots for about 2 months, then gave up, bleached the black out, and went back to dark blonde.
I have dreams about my hair ALL THE TIME. Usually that it is long and silky and cascading. HA. I cannot even count how many times I have cried and cursed after a haircut, but this once time, I cut my hair super short because I wanted to look like Kelly on 90210 (I think this was 1995- I was about to graduate from college). I did not look like Kelly. And I cried, like every day for a month. And then it took two years to get some hair I wasn’t ashamed of. Jeez.
I have just been going through pictures of my hair over the years. Mine has just gotten long enough to donate, but there won’t be much left after the ponytail gets cut off, so I was looking through the pictures to see if I ever had a short cut that I liked that I could take to my hairdresser. I think I may have one or two, but I’m starting to get scared about making this huge change. I’ve had it all: femullet, perm, boy cut, layers, all one length, blonde, red, black, purple, the short felicity, the long felicity…I think I have to bring in the pictures for my coworker to look at so she can help me pick a short one that worked.
I’m pretty sure that Hanky Poo clips will save the world.
I had my hair done for a friend’s wedding. No one told me the stylist had a pageant background. Needless to say, I had to make him take my updo in by about three inches. Then I managed to get my hair tangled in a groomsman’s earring during the “sign of peace” portion of the ceremony. We had to stop the ceremony while we we got untangled. Oh, and did I mention the groomsman was an ex-boyfiend?
My hair became the “what went wrong” at my dear friend’s wedding.
Top that!
I’ve had the same cut for the past 30+ years.
I got my hair did two days ago. Read, I took my hair clippers and did the sheared sheep look. It’s nice being a middle-aged male with thinning hair, because you can get away with that look.
I always had pretty long hair as a kid (before I discovered punk rock), and always had to fight with my parents about it. One time, when I was eleven, my mom and I came to a compromise. She would stop hassling me about my shoulder-length hair if I would let her give me a perm, so at least my hair would have some “body” and not just hang in my face. She had given herself and both of my sisters perms, and they didn’t look horrible. So I agreed.
In retrospect, it’s obvious that Mom intentionally destroyed my hair so that I would have no choice but to cut it off. But I would not relent. Although I was aghast upon the unveiling of my new ‘fro, I refused to cut it. Instead, I spent countless hours blow-drying it and brushing it until it was more or less straight again. Of course, if a drop of rain or molecule of sweat touched it–boing!–Richard Simmons time. I lived in fear of even the slightest bit of humidity lest my shame be discovered by my peers.
I’m not sure why I was so worried about people knowing I had a perm, since I didn’t have a problem wearing vinyl pants and a fur coat.
Back in the 80’s, I used to get perms on a Regular Schedule. Plus, I had mullet-type shape to my hair. Feel better yet?
http://www.pampersandpinot.com
Picture August before freshman year at college. Hair is a little past shoulders. Go in and ask for layers (long), so your hair will have dimension and will look priceless for that first day of school. An hour later, come out of salon with a boy cut and the longest layer is 2″. I sobbed for 3 days, and wore a hat for 2 weeks. I didn’t get my haircut for almost 2 years. Worst hair cut EVER. BEFORE FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE. I’m still mad about it 12 years later.
After I accidentally dyed my red-dyed light brown hair black (figure THAT one out. I was trying to dye it brown!), I got a haircut that was supposed to be short, with long bangs.
Instead, I looked like a gay Beatle. As it turned out, it didn’t look 100% tragic after I washed it, because, as it turned out, she’d flat-ironed it to make it “trendy-looking.” Once it poofed up, it was live-withable, but I cried for three days after that haircut.
Sixth grade I finally talked my mom into letting me get a perm. My hair is very thick and always has been. They had to redo the perm after rinsing the chemicals out since the perm didn’t take the first time . It didn’t help that my hair was cut to between my shoulders and my chin with layers. Result, my spiral perm turned into a big fluff ball.
The 80’s. All. Of. It. Bad hair galore. I still cringe and the side shave pics.
Okay, but remember you asked for it…
http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3080/2582745182_52d0a754b4.jpg
And no, I did not go to school in the seventies, and I did not graduate from high school at 35.
Ohhh, Becky! I so understand! Have a fat face so not real fond of changing hairstyles. I feel like long, beautiful hair makes up for a multitude of perceived flaws in the head area.
My worse haircut? The one where I learned hard to take a picture to the hairstylist rather than doing a vague description? My 8th grade mullet. That’s right. A FREAKING, cut above the ears, from the crown of my head to right behind my ears short with the back left longish chick mullet. And permed. It was humiliating. It, my dear, was my version of your pixie cut.
The good news? It’ll grow out. And you still look cute with the clip.
My mother kept my hair short my entire childhood. I finally convinced her to let me grow it out when I was in seventh grade and it got long, long, longer until it desperately needed a trim, some kind of shape to it. A quick, fateful trip to the Hair Cuttery and goddam if it wasn’t as short as it was when I started. Now, I keep my hair shorter than my husband’s and it drives my mother crazy. Of course, it’s all her fault.
I typically rock the difference hair cuts. long, super short, angled, layered, bangs, you name it. and the colors? black, red, blond, I’ve done it all. the secret to my success was boredom and a kickass stylist who knew me well and always got what I was telling her.
but my one mistake was not giving her direction. she’s awesome with direction. but once? (I was 20, I think) I went in and told her I needed a change and told her to be creative. it. was. AWFUL. she gave me a mushroom on top of my head. I looked like a penis. I had to wear my hair in a headband for 3 months.
lesson learned: always do a lot of research before your cut. take a picture even.
When I was in college and home for the summer, I asked my mother to give me a body wave. I don’t think they even sell that crap anymore, because it’s really just a perm. I don’t know what I was thinking — my hair already had too much volume, what with the frizz from the humidity. I guess we left it on a little bit too long, because when we took the rods out — total poodle. I washed it a zillion times to try to relax it, but that just made it worse. I went to work for days with a big blonde ‘fro, until I finally just went to a salon and paid to have it straightened.
I must be hair-blind, because your hair with the clip looks cute. I don’t see the problem.
I was sure I was going to look like Dorothy Hamill…not so I looked like a dyke all I needed was my wallet on a chain
When I was in the third grade I was desperate for a perm (I’m 24, so this was only the 90s). It was HORRIBLE. I looked like a poodle. The PE teacher even called me Fifi.
I look back on that and cringe.
OH come on! How bad could it be?…says the chick who pays outrageous prices for a simple haircut simply because the only hair dresser she’s used for FIFTEEN years has gone somewhere pricey and I refuse to do that whole try-a-new-hair-cutter-person. *shudder*
When I was 15 I went to the hairdresser, a neighbor, long time friend of my mom’s & the women who had done my hair since I was 6 and asked for a shoulder length cut with layered side wings & bangs (it was 1982) and a body wave. I’m not sure what she heard come out of my mouth but I ended up with an ear length bob and a spiral perm. With the bangs & sides sprayed out & up properly I looked like a poodle that had had electro shock therapy.
And naturally the next day was class photos & that look is immortalized in my sophomore yearbook
When I was nine, I started reading the Ramona books. The description of Ramona was me, the only thing missing was the hair. So I took my book to Great Clips and got my haircut! Problem is, I have had the SAME DAMN haircut since I was NINE!!! I’ve done the pixie (really cute- on a MAN), the Rachel (Also cute, but a pain in the ass to maintain), short layers, long layers, bangs, no bangs, and in every color imaginable (The pixie was bright orange-AWESOME-on a man). . .But I always go back to the same cut I had all those years ago. It’s destiny I guess. . .
You look great, Aunt Becky!
Somewhere in the mid 80’s, of course it was the 80’s, isn’t the penultimate of bad hair?, I had a perm-mullet.
I still have nightmares.
Will you still love me after this heinous admittance of hairtastrophe?
Two Words: Dorothy Fucking Hamill.
Oh, that was three. See how scarred I am now?!?!?!
I used to have long, gorgeous waves down to my waist when I was about 11. Then my mom got sick of washing it and pinning me to a chair to brush it out so she (the Original Beauty School Dropout) decided to cut it herself.
Naturally, the results were disastrous. I looked like a fuzzy, angry q-tip. It was all thick, frizzy clumps of curls and full of cowlicks and I couldn’t do a thing with it. That lasted until 7th grade when I heard an older boy refer to me as “The Cowardly Lion after a lightning strike”. I chopped it all off into my first pixie shortly thereafter, at a real hairdresser.
Since then? I’ve been pretty happy with it. Especially since the advent of the Blessed Flat Iron and the Holy InStyler. It’s hard to mess up my hair…unless you’re my mom.
I think the worst haircut I ever had was in college. I didn’t start out with something great, let me tell you. I had dyed my hair purple, so it was completely dead and sad. I went into the stylist and asked for “something short”. I guess I should have been more specific, because I walked out looking like a mushroom with a rattail. I was so sad. But then I shaved it and dyed the bitty bits red, so I guess I got over it fast. I just never imagined that a haircut could make me look so hideous!
My WORST haircut ever was when my tempremental gay hairdresser was in a bad mood and instead of trimming my super long hair he totally whacked it into a cross between a mullet/Carol Brady/Joan Jett runwaways era. The best part? It was two weeks before my wedding so I had to end up whacking it even more to like a chin length bob which highlighted my chinS.
Your hair is so gorgeous. It’ll get back to where you want it.
I am stuck in bang hell right now and have been for over a year. I’ve been hairclipping it the whole time, and I am so sick of hair clips I could scream. Well, I do. And throw the hair clips. Then have to find new ones, because I needed them. HORRIBLE. And, NEVER AGAIN.
My worst haircut was when I was in college. I am one of those people who grows the hair out to like, waist length, then gets it cut about 1/4″ long…in other words, continually dissatisfied with my hair. Anyway, I got a short cut and you’d think you couldn’t mess up a 1/4-1/2″ cut, right? Just get out the clippers and go to town. I don’t know WHAT she did, but things were happening that were different from just regular short things. She tried to make it fancy somehow. It was so awful and no amount of any kind of product could make it stop. I cried and colored it black, hoping it would blend in to my surroundings better until it grew out.
[…] my friend Becky just wrote this post. It stirred up how I feel about my own recent haircut. Not sure why we all think that it’s a […]
I had some seriously awful hair in the early ’80s. I’m not sure if those styles (the Farrah) were an improvement on the bowl cuts my mom gave me or not. This is probably why I refuse to take pictures now. However, I do have a favorite haircut story:
When I lived in Chicago, it was awesome in terms of ways to get a really expensive haircut cheap. All you had to do was let the students use your head for practice. You could go to the Nieman Marcus hair salon or Vidal Sassoon on certain days and get a very stylish haircut for $15. The students were already licensed – they were just training in the ways of the pricey salon. So, shortly before I got my current job, and had to move to bumfuck Egypt (literally, I think. They call the area just south of that town Little Egypt), I got an awesome haircut at Vidal Sassoon. Then, a few months later, I decided I needed a haircut, and so went to Supercuts in bumfuck. The chick who cut my hair said “Oh My God! Where did you get your hair cut last? This is just awful. It’s all uneven!” I was all “I got it cut at Vidal Sassoon. You know. In Chicago.” Needless to say, there was little conversation after that exchange. Plus I got bangs out of the deal. That was the last time I had bangs.
About 8 years ago, I saw a woman who had recently finished chemo, and her hair was just growing back. She normally wore a bandana, but this one day she didn’t wear anything. She looked so awesome, and had such a beautifully shaped head. That got me thinking, “what if I get cancer and lose my hair? Will my head look OK?”
So, throughout that summer, I kept cutting my hair shorter and shorter until I had a very short pixie cut. I looked like a boy, but my head seemed to be an OK shape.
Fast forward several years, and I had to have a craniotomy. Not only did they have to shave a portion of my head (which grew back very strangely for a while), but I also now have a 6″ scar above and around my ear. FURTHEREMORE, the bandage around my head was so tight that I had what I can only describe as road rash on my forehead, which has left me with a beautiful scar, and forces me to have bangs at all times.
So much for looking good bald.
I am currently rocking a headband. It feels odd. Feel free to steal the idea.
in grade school, my mother let my aunt give me a Carol Brady cut; i’m not even sure it was fashionable when Carol donned it but this was about five years after that even. why yes, i was quite popular! thanks Mom!
Hair cut?? I almost never get my hair cut- that’s what God invented elastics for. I HATE getting my hair cut because it usually results in tears and a hangover as you describe, and also larger amounts of small talk than I can tolerate at one sitting, and once the hair dressers held a mini case conference around my head where they picked up random strands and told me that it was “over processed” (how that is possible, I don’t know. If anything it’s under processed.) and then they made me buy sixty dollars worth of conditioners, one leave in, one wash out, and one “intense hydration” The good news is they smell like oranges.
But my hair is still in a pony tail. But at least it smells nice.
I had some layers in high school that were awful.
In 2005, when I was the mother of a 1 1/2 year old, and pregnant with another kid, I went to a Toni and That Other Dude salon. I said (this probably a direct quote) “I need something that is easy to maintain. I don’t have a lot of time to mess with my hair.”
I walked out with layers that started so close to my scalp that if I did not curl my hair everyday, I had a mullet. And I do NOT shop at Walmart enough to require a mullet…
Straighten, not curl. Straighten it every day.
I should go to bed…
It was Easter Sunday my first year in seminary. I came home from service w/ two bottles of wine, two boxes of hair dye, and the idea that just like Jesus I too was going to resurect a part of myself. namely my inner blonde. w/ highlights. my then boyfriend (now husband) and I proceeded to get drunk and go to town on my hair. we got the bottles mixed up and ended up using the bleach all over…including my eyebrows.
011100010. no robot, just bored.
I’d love the criteria my blog uses to determine who is a robot and who is not. Because you don’t look a THING like a robot. Not from THIS end, at least. Silly old blog.
You name a bad haircut, and I think I have had it. When we were kids, my mom didn’t know the first thing about doing hair. She still doesn’t. When the little girls go to stay over, they all end up looking like a hot mess, b/c my mom can’t even comb their hair.
I had the Dorothy Hamill haircut.
I had a mullet.
With my mullet, my mom had my bangs PERMED. Just the BANGS, you know the bangs that started at my ears and “framed” my face. Nice one, mom.
I had a bob, that my mom convinced me to get permed, and the hairdresser didn’t cut layers into it, so I had a giant poodley triangle of hair on my head.
I had several bad coloring experiences, one right before 8th grade, where I turned my hair Oscar the Grouch green. Too bad it was before my punk phase.
The worst part? My mom tried to do this same crap to my oldest daughter. She would take her out behind my back and get her “bangs” when I would be trying to grow the MFers out, and try to say that my 4 year old asked for them. Nice try. I finally threatened her with no grandkid time if she kept up the chop chop, and she stopped.
OHNOES – Hair stories… have a few… but will share this bit –
*Many* years ago, I made the grave error of saying I wanted my hair shortened for the hot PA summer. I put a finger on the back of my neck and said – all of it, that length. OMI! It was 1 to 1.5″ long all over when she was done. I looked like a boy and man, I was so far ahead of the times, since no female back then had their hair that short.
Ever since, it has been growing ‘out’. Yes, it is trimmed annually and cut by this very cool woman who does “hair balancing”. Here’s her site: http://www.hairgarden.com/
Maybe she’ll come to a town near you?
well, aunt becky, when i was a young crotch parasite my hair was blond, super fine and ratted at the nape of my neck into something akin to a birds nest. my hair was so fine that no matter what attempts were made to put any amount of curl into it fell flat. literally. dippity-doo with tape on the bangs and those pink spongey roller things with loads of aqua net, are you picturing it? okay, so, my mom who just wanted her little girl to experience having some curl in her waist length hair decided to try the latest product on the market, an in-home perm. now mind you, my mother is not a beautician and this product was the latest in home hair care.
beauty treatment in hand and on said fine as silk hair, perm rods adeptly in place and the timer set. let’s leave it in a few more minutes
since your hair doesn’t hold curl, brilliant thinking. excitement ensued. the product has been rinsed from my now burning scalp and the removal of permanent rods commences, tangled and torn rods were being removed with care (not). now it is time to view the outcome, looking into the mirror for the first time, strobe lights and brilliant flashes of aural color waves flash. my hair looked like a shirley temple daymare, my super fine hair was burnt to the roots.
what to do? i know, let’s go to the local cosmetology school for some expert advice (brilliant). upon arrival the main instructor said, “i need to handle this one”. i was ushered into the beauty chair and given the prompt news that the only thing to be done was to cut it all off, to the scalp. my waist length hair was promptly cut to the scalp. shocking to say the least.
my father wanting to make me feel a little better took me to the grocery store for a little snack therapy, while there ladies commented on what a cute little boy i was and how they had never seen a boy with earrings before. yes, this could have been the beginning of my road to androgyny.
my father was mortified and said this is not a boy this is my daughter. sweeet, huh?
since this time my hair has never been past shoulder length with the majority of my years spent having a bald hairdo. my mom to this day says i’m punishing her for giving me this bad in-home perm, who knows she could be onto something. bald is beautiful!
I like the clip.
There was the time – in a fit of new mom of 3 hormones and hate of my pouffy hair, I cut it myself. Just straight across my shoulders to kill the split ends. Except it’s really, really hard to cut a straight line of hair, especially with blunt scissors.
There was also a cut in the ’80’s that involved really poorly done layers and 4 months of wearing them back in a barrette every single day.
While on acid I decided to bleach the hell out of my bright red hair. This resulted in Ronald McDonald orange. Luckily, my hair’s really short, so I was able to cut it all out within a month.
Too strange! My best friend’s online handle is “c10h12n2o 5ht” and when she was on acid, she shaved her whole head (clippers, no guard). It’s like my BFF is your doppelganger.
My worst haircut? Thick, fuzzy hair (it naturally has 2 textures: straight on top, wiry underneath) cut into a triangular-stops-at-the-ears bob. It never smoothed down beyond
/ \ shape and my mom kept making me get it for yeeears.
Aunt Becky, You are awesome! Thank you so much for writing what you do; I am a 33-year-old Speech Language Pathologist by trade, consider myself a writer at heart (still just a wanna be, though)! Have raised my dog (um, the most awesome dog in the world) for a year now, bought a house, thinking about kids…you inspire me in that you are both a mother AND a person in your own right! I worry about losing myself while building a family, but you give me hope. You are the best friend I’d love to do some tequila shots with!! Mmmm…tequila….I love your blog, am grateful for your honesty, and wish you all the best! Keep writing for us!
When I was about 8 I had long beautiful hair. My family gets this wild idea to cut and PERM it. Well, I ended up with hair shorter than a boys and with kinky a$$ curls on my head. Everywhere I went people called me a BOY and asked questions like, “Does your SON want coke to drink?” and stupid other sh*t!!! Anyway, LMAO… That perm ended up ruining my hair for life… went from straight with slight curls to a frizzy, thick, course Lion’s mane (which I have had to deal with to this day).
Then when I was 13 my grandmother made me get “the mullet,” It was so gross, and I was already short and fat with acne, a bad haircut was just insult on top of injury…. LOL…
GREAT POST! I think your hair is too cute in the pic:)
I dunno. I think Joan Jett is kinda hot. Break out the leather pants, Becky.
Well, don’t think that when you have the ideal hair cut, that you’re problems are over. A while ago, (Ok, it was the century when feathery bangs were in) I went to the hair salon that was literally the hottest salon in Philadelphia (way before I had kids). For the rest of the day, I thought I looked like Farrah Fawcett, at least my hair, anyway. Then I got home, looked in the mirror, and for the first and not the last time, found three fucking dark hairs sticking out of my upper chest. That is the way I roll. Unfortunately.
Shit Becky, I’m a white woman with African-American type hair and once upon a time I let a white hairdresser try to straighten it. OMG that was a fucking disaster.
In the day and age of perms, I got my hair “trimmed” and permed. I walked in with long hair, I walked out a poodle and ………cried. Being that I was too young for “mommy’s little helper”, I did the next best thing in the 90’s, I put my grown out bangs into a scruchie and mastered the snorkle look with the “fountain spout” on the top of my head!
LOL No robot here, just master of my crotch parasites.
Right before I left my punk rock hair days behind me, I tried to bleach hair that I had dyed black. By myself. Yeah, I had to cut it all off and have a pink flattop.
8th grade; almost the end of the year (yeah, teenage girl, hitting puberty) – My hair was about mid-back or so. My stepmother took me to get my hair cut. I said “Take of an inch”. she went behind my back and told the hairdresser to cut it off. SHE CUT IT ALL OFF. Like, the longest hair I had was UNDER AN INCH LONG. I cried for days. I think I’ve had less than ten haircuts since then (note, that’s been uh. 20+ years). I didn’t realize it until later, but the fuckin bitch was jealous I had WAY better hair than her. I could have killed them both, I was so mad. Now my hair goes all the way past my butt and they can all DIE IN A FIRE.
I wear wigs. Every day. With two toddlers it’s the easiest way to look like the HAWT MESS that I am.
PS: You have no reason to believe we kick it IRL. ; ) *smiles & waves*
XXOO
You want to talk about bangs… my aunt decided that if she used pinking shears, it would give it a textured look. Not so much! I think my mom is still pissed 25 years later. 😉 Great blog!
There was a time when, by choice, I had what can only be called poofy hair.
When I was about 3 or 5 or something my mom did that pixie thing to me – and me too, I am not able to pull off the pixie. Then my parents had a photographer come to the house to do portraits to immortalize my shame. I got even by not smiling. They got even by everything they did after I was 3 or 5. All in all I blame the haircut for my entire life after that
the end
The first commenter nailed it. Skin=perfection.
I cannot relive my worst cut, let’s just say that it involved 1985, bleach and a perm.
Shudder.
I had high hopes of one day getting my bangs, you know the ones that my mother foisted upon me, PERMED. But just my bangs. Nothing else.
I was seriously stupid and thank GOD she didn’t let me!
Oh you will love this then:
http://www.yearbookyourself.com/
I think there are at least six of these hairstyles that I have had (and hated!!)
One time when i was 16 my my mom gave me a haircut and she went out of it i ended up with a mullet it was the last time my mom ever cut my hair
Oh, you POOR thing. That’s bad.
This is some funny shit! But seriously Becky, you are GORGEOUS! All the way around. You could be bald and be beautiful. So whatever hairstyle you chose girl…I got your back! Love ya! Shannon
Now I want to marry you and make babies with you. HARD.
So when I was a freshman in highschool I let my moms friend cut my hair. Let me mention she was stuck in the 80s like major! So needless to say I ended up with what can only be classified as a mullet! My bangs went from ear to ear and it was to my shoulder blades in the back. It was awful! Somewhere I have the awesome picture to remind me of my super awesome haircut. *shudder*
You always have to save those pictures, just because. But that’s AWFUL. Somehow I managed to avoid the 80’s…until now.
One word. Perm. I looked like freakin’ orphan Annie…except I was recently divorced and going for a new look for the new me. It didn’t work. It was like a chastity belt – for my head.
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
“chastity belt-for my head.”
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
When I was about 10ish my father’s wife decided that since I didn’t tell her what I wanted to do with my hair, she was going to chop it all off… think boy cut. It was not pleasant. Growing it back out when I was 14-16 was also unpleasant. I had not had bangs again untiillll about 2 years ago, while pregnant with my daughter, my husband convinced me the “wispy bangs” look would be a grand idea… yeah.. um… no. THAT lasted until I got out of the hairdressers chair. I hated him until they grew out.
I’m always jealous of anyone who can pull off bangs. I cannot. Ever.
I don’t really have the patience or tolerance that it takes to maintain them. My only excuse for the “bangs” incident 2 years ago was the pregnancy that was clouding my brain – obviously.
I had the cross of St George shaved into the back of my head and then coloured red in a drunken bout of misplaced patriotism. Thank god the World Cup is only comes around every four years.
Dude, I would TOTALLY want to see that. PLEASE tell me you have pictures.
I think the fraud squad confiscated them. I’ll see what I can do.
Ohh the hair trauma!
I was nine – with natural very oily fiery red hair. To help deal with the problem my dear Mother (best intentions) took me to her stylist (who has admitted publically to having a poofing problem!!) to get a perm. I came out looking like Ronald Mc-FUCKING-Donald!! At school I became Curly Fries….*sigh* and my younger brother and sister (whom are twins) were then known as Bacon and Cheddar…Arby’s had a commercial at the time for their curly fries…
*cues music*
“Bacon cheddar curly fries! Bacon cheddar curly fries! Bacon cheddar curly fries and only for $2.99!”
Yes they sang it to us. Yes it traumatized me. I was known as Curly Fries for at least three years afterwards…
It was a “shag” haircut (read: mullet) inflicted on me during a brief bout of insanity in the 80’s. Jesus God, it was so awful I scared dogs and small children. I still hope that hair stylist will burn in hell. And by the way…you still look cute no matter what style you choose…makes your eyes look huge!
Hair looks great and I especially like the streak in it.
Im always doing something to my hair. Like someone once told me… the only difference between a good haircut and a bad haircut is 2 weeks.
Haha. You make me laugh!
How ’bout my 3rd grade short, permed “Annie” cut (so dubbed by me after the fact. Although I adored the movie, this was NOT a look I coveted!). My mom thought it was adorable. I was horrified and distinctly remember crying dramtically and spending a lot of time staring out the window, forlorn, while contemplating my tragic circumstances, completely immobile for hours. An 8 year old sobbing “My hair! UGH” repeatedly…
I have never gotten another perm and to this day have never colored my hair or strayed from my basic long layers. Trauma? I think so.
My hair was very long, about to my butt, I think I was nine. Then I decided I wanted to cut it and, for the very first time, perm it. Why my mom allowed this I have no idea. So it was cut about to my shoulders and permed. I think they tried some bangs and layers too because it was somewhat Annie-like when dry. I went to a birthday party with my brand new hair and the birthday girl gasps “Oh, Denise, you brought me a poodle!” Yeah, awesome.