Hairrrrrr.

Last night I had my haircut. And I felt unbelievably awful when I suddenly put my eyeglasses to see the final product.

This is what I get for not clearly stating what I want. Thing is, I’m the type of person to say what I want. Sometimes however, I don’t get to, because it’s either what I want still isn’t too clear for me, or I’d like to get a bit of a surprise.

Last night I was surprised all right. Surprised to see almost the same unbelievably plain hairstyle I went with 45 minutes ago. I entered and left the salon the same person, P500 poorer though.

It’s a stupid haircut, deal with it. The hair’s been chopped off, there’s nothing you could do with it. Better than spilled milk, I guess, because hair grows back up; milk doesn’t.

Still I feel awful. When I went home, I kept on coming back to the mirror to check. Probably in the hopes that at some angle, or under a different lighting condition it would look better. It didn’t.

Now I woke up, still hoping that it’s gotten better in 7 hours. It hasn’t.

Stupid, stupid haircut. This is what you get for not spelling out what you want.

The worst part is that I had no one else to blame but myself. Felt bad for the stylist though. Because I knew he read my mind. It’s quite easy to do that when you’re faced with someone who’s undeniably transparent expressions can’t hide anything, even when tried so hard. Felt bad for my friends who went with me that night because they had to hear me rant. Awful display of dramatics on a wonderful Friday night. I probably should’ve kept my (#(@*$) feelings to myself. Then, they wouldn’t have felt bad, because they too wanted me to get the haircut. Maybe they felt they had something to do with this stupid incident. They didn’t. It was unfair to them. It was all a product of MY bad briefing to the stylist; MY inability to describe what I really really wanted; MY carelessness not to check from time to time…knowing that this has already happened before.

(The thing is, when I take off my eyeglasses, I practically see nothing on the mirror but a blob of brown with something black on top. That would have otherwise been my face and my hair being cut off in the process, to someone with clear vision)

Stupid, stupid way to burn money. Ok. Fine. This haircut would’ve been perfectly ok—if I paid 1/3 the price. I could’ve done something similar to this with a pair of scissors.

Stupid, stupid me. This has happened before. The reason why I haven’t gone to a salon in 3 years is because I always end up with a haircut so far from what I want. The reason why I’ve started to learn how to cut my own hair. (which yes, sometimes looks like I’ve gotten gum stucked to my hair the other night; but still I did it for free. And for me, it was what the look that I wanted)

Honestly, I didn’t have a clear picture in my head of what it is I wanted. I had them in broad strokes, probably. Ultimately, what I wanted was change. This wasn’t change at all. In fact, it’s not all that shitty. It’s not even bad. That’s what makes it so stupid. It’s not even bad, it’s not good; it’s uncannily mediocre. I hate it.

I knew I’d be walking in the mall seeing one out of 5 people with probably the same hairstyle. How unique.

I tried to ask the stylist to fix it, to make the layers chunky; to make me look different. He said I’d have to wait because chopping off more that night would’ve meant an even worse result both for my hair and for my stupid facial expression.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe this looks good on me. As of last night, I didn’t care. This wasn’t what I wanted.

I feel awful. For the most part, because of the repeated mistake. Still haven’t learned your lesson, cey…Next time, know what you want first, before you do something. Don’t just let someone else do it for you, and expect that it’s going to be good at the first try. Say what you really, really want. That way, even when you don’t end up with something good, you’ll at least wallow in the thought that you got what you wanted. Next time, ok cey? Fine. Learn from this, and then move one. Quit whining, it’s irritating. Oh, and one more thing, when you whine, please don't ruin anyone else's time but yours? Thanks.

Fine. Noted.

P.s.
Deep down I’m hoping this turns out like the pair of jeans ate bought for me 12 years ago. I hated it the first time I tried it on. Only to turn out wearing them every chance I got, and loving every moment of it. I don’t know how exactly that happened. Morgan Freeman’s words come to mind—since when did people know what they wanted?