Yvette's Inner Geek Blog

I bought another package of “Dark Cherry” dye and was preparing to refresh the violet tones on my roots this week, but then an interview-type-thing popped up unexpectedly, and it seemed like a better idea to not have violet hair this week. I was in need of a haircut anyway.

I went to the Nice Salon a few minutes away from my house this morning, where I’ve had good experiences when I go (which ends up being once or twice a year). I’d go more often if it cost less. The stylist I liked doesn’t work there anymore, so I scheduled an appointment with one I didn’t know anything about because she was available on short notice.

Bad idea, as it turns out.

I’m not a morning person and didn’t have my usual amount of coffee this morning, otherwise I might have noticed the little things during my haircut. We discussed the auburn-ish base color I wanted, but she didn’t bring up what color or how bright the highlights would be. She didn’t check in as often with little questions and clarifications. She didn’t give me a mirror to look at the back of my hair after she finished.

My gut told me that that I didn’t like the haircut, but I didn’t listen. I also didn’t feign joy, and a good stylist would have noticed that I was less than thrilled and perhaps inquired about why. But I was tired and keeping an eye on the clock since I had to go to class—so I paid, left a decent tip as I normally do, and walked out the door.

But I didn’t like my haircut in the rear view mirror. And I didn’t like it under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the university bathroom. My friends and classmates—people whom, under normal circumstances, I would never ask what they thought of my new haircut—said things like “it’s cute!” in that certain tone of voice which, as we all know, means that it is not cute. But they would rather be polite than risk offending me even though I am essentially begging them to. Note to self: next time just wait to see husband’s reaction.

The interview is, of course, tomorrow. Washing my hair will help even out the stripey highlights, but it’s the unflattering cut that concerns me. As I twittered earlier, “I either got a Carol Brady-esque mullet haircut or I’m not in tune w/fashionable hairstyles of 2010. Either way it needs to be fixed!”

I played with it more this evening—flattening, curling, mousseing—but can’t get it to a point where I’m even moderately happy with it. I should have called the Nice Salon this afternoon, but I’ve never been in this situation before and I don’t know the proper way to deal with it. I don’t want the same stylist to fix my hair since she got it wrong the first time and there isn’t time (or length) for additional error. I also don’t want to be the bitchy customer who insists that the manager fix it personally—because the salon is relatively small and I know the stylist is working tomorrow. It’s embarrassing. But I’m going to have to call first thing tomorrow and ask if I can come in on my way to the interview.

And no, I’m not going to share a photo. If you want to see an unflattering image of me, you’re going to have to visit me in person.

P.S. Though I wrote a level-headed response the first time it happened, don’t be a dick and tell me that I’m not a geek because I’m writing about my hair. I’m feeling snarly.