(Note: I'm still getting a few comments on my "first class or five star" question a couple of posts below, so I'll address that in my next post.)
Something else happened on Saturday that is something of a milestone for me. I finally got fed up with my dried out, straw-like, do-nothing hair (which I suppose is only natural, since it's been six months since it was last cut), so I made the big leap and made an appointment to get it cut.
This should be a happy occasion, since I got through it basically alright. I was in awe of their adjusting sinks - no more contortionist shampooing! - and was relieved when the stylist pulled out a couple of books and let me pick out a style that I liked. I didn't have to give the whole explanation of bangs (or fringe, if you like) or layers*! I even survived the requisite chit-chat that seems to be the international rule of all hairstylists!
Then it got bad. In fact, I didn't even realize how bad it was until it was over, and she was drying my hair. The cut was to have been at least chin length and rather full, to take advantage of the curl my hair has when it's at that length. Instead, I got short hair. I mean SHORT hair. I don't know when it's been this short. Maybe when I was six? It's too damn short. It looks nothing like the photo I chose. I am not pleased.
Now, I am the first person to console a friend who thinks they have received a bad cut with the line, "The difference between a good cut and a bad cut is two weeks." Thank goodness hair does in fact grow, and I won't be stuck with this look forever. I am afraid, however, that it may be slightly more than two weeks before I am happy about my hair again.
*In the interest of full disclosure, I should say that I learned that layered hair is called "dégradé" in French (I may not have spelled that exactly right). This has been in my mind for over a year, in preparation for my eventual visit to a hairdresser in France, and I sat here for a full five minutes trying to remember the word in English again!