I’m not sure what is considered a “normal” number of salon appointments per year, but I typically limit myself to just one.
Why? Well, several reasons. First, I’ve never really loved the whole salon vibe and I’m not really sure what to say to my stylist so we usually just end up sitting in really loud, awkward silence for an hour or so.
But secondly, and perhaps most importantly, I always seem to end up regretting what I got done to my hair while I was there.
I’m not a particularly adventurous person, but for some reason, whenever I’m sitting in that chair trying to make small talk with the stylist about whatever Netflix show might be trending that month, I start to feel a little dangerous .
Like, “Let’s try bangs!”-kind of dangerous.
There’s just something about having that cape draped over you and looking at your damp hair in the mirror that just makes you tingle with *possibilities*.
But I really need to stop listening to those damn tingles because they have really done me wrong in the past.
Exhibit A: those aforementioned bangs.
I’ve also dabbled in shockingly-short cuts (AKA very unfortunate mushroom cuts), and also, tragically, *hair dye*.
Luckily, I’ve managed to tame that wild pony of hair possibilities that likes to run rampant in my heart, and I’ve steered clear of going too extreme with the dye jobs.
But I’ve also ended up with an orange head on more than one occasion. And that’s just not O.K.
Yet no matter how many times I regret my style order, I can’t seem to stop making another mistake the next time I’m in that chair.
Maybe one day I’ll learn. Maybe one day I’ll value my happiness more than that fleeting burst of optimism, and I’ll just calmly ask for a trim instead of something far, far more extreme.
But until that day comes, I’ll just keep enduring those six weeks of really high highs and really low lows while staring at myself in the mirror.
