I have a phobia of hairdressers. There are very few I let near my hair to do anything more than trimming it.
The reason for this goes back about 15 years or so. See, I have unruly curly hair. Seriously, I can’t get my hair to do anything I want with it. It’s frizzy and temperamental, and well, I spend most of the time pulling it into a ponytail.
Well, when I was young, I decided I had enough, and convinced my mom to let me cut my hair short. I don’t know what she was thinking, because clearly short, unruly curly hair actually equals into an Afro… But she didn’t argue with me, and off to the hairdresser we went.
This hairdresser was an Italian woman that my family all went to. I explained I wanted a shorter hairstyle that was easier to maintain. She nodded, pulled my hair into a pony-tail and chopped the pony-tail off, and voila she was done. Edward Scissorhands could have done a much better job…
But, two horrible seconds – and it took me over a year to grow my hair out to a non-Afro like style, and well, I still have nightmares to this day… I’d post a picture of how horrible it was, but well, I’ve destroyed all pictures… (Not really, but I did hide them and have no idea where they are!)
And, that’s my hair disaster, as inspired by prompt no. 4 at Mama Kat’s.