You thought my hair was short before...

Actually my hair used to be really long...until May 4th. I haven't had it cut since then. Until today.

See, when I went to get it cut before I asked for a chin-length bob with a few long, wispy layers around my face and side-swept bangs. I even took pictures with me as an example. The stylist, however, had a different interpretation of a bob haircut. I think she gave me a Jim. I have no idea what that means, and apparently neither did she. I ended up with a crazy shag cut with choppy, chunky, very short layers (we're talking two inches long in places) all over my head. It was, well, weird, but a lot of my friends liked it when I flipped it up in the back so it was okay. Whatever. It's just hair. No big deal. That is, until I got the bill.

See, I spoke with the owner of the salon before I went there and she quoted me a ten dollar price since I was donating the hair to Locks of Love. I paid extra for the blowout because I knew I'd never be able to style that cut without some assistance. My bill was $30 and I tipped $7 (I KNOW I shouldn't have tipped her for a bad cut. I KNOW!! But I'm such a wuss I did it anyway) which brings us to a grand total of $37. The charge on my credit card was $67. Now, I'm a forgiving person, generally speaking. I'll tip after a really bad cut but NO WAY was I paying that much money for it.

So today I finally decided to put on my big girl panties and go back to the salon to straighten this matter out. I was nervous because I hate confrontations. The salon owner looked up the transaction, found the original receipt, and said that they only charged me $37. I showed her my bill. Long story short--after a lot of back and forth, we called the credit card company and they said I had indeed been charged too much by the salon. The owner said that the only way she knew to handle this was to make the original stylist cut my hair again at no charge.

I politely explained to her that I would never let that skanky 'ho near my head again, only I was a little classier about it. By then two other stylists had come over to see what was going on. One of them, a sweet girl named Shannon with big blue eyes and really pretty hair of her own, said, "I'll cut it for her. " When the owner explained to her that she'd be working for no pay, Shannon said, "I'll take one for the team. She was wronged and we need to make it right." Then the two of us sliced and diced the hair cutting ability of the other stylist for the next fifteen minutes while she fingercombed my hair and tsk, tsked about the job the other lady did on me.

We agreed that we the scraggly ends of my hair needed to be cut off so that the bottom could grow out fuller and the layers could catch up to grow into the bob I originally wanted. So now I have a much shorter 'do that my husband says is just like me, short and perky. If I curled it, it would look a little like Amy Adams as Amelia Earhart in Night at the Museum 2: Battle of the Smithsonian, only blondish. I wish my hair was still long like Amy's. And I wish I had Amy's hot little body. Dang, you could bounce a quarter off that butt.

I'll post pictures when I get really brave. Or a butt like Amy's.