Do you remember the post last spring where I talked about the horror of finding out that my hair stylist, Patric had left the salon we typically use, without calling me to let me know?

Stay with me here..

Saturday morning, after rushing around to do errands, I took Alex and Dylan for hair cuts. In the summer, they're happy to just have their heads shaved at home with our clippers. But with the weather cooling down, its time to keep it slightly longer. And while we were there, I decided to get mine trimmed. The girl who cut mine, we had never had before, or seen for that matter.. but its just a trim, right?

I explained to her, in detail, how it should be cut: short bob, long layers, but short enough to curl up and not poof out (or I suffer pyramid head syndrome.) And while shes cutting, the boys are also getting theirs done behind me, so I'm watching them in the mirror. When she starts combing my hair and "fluffing" it out, I nearly had a panic attack. I knew immediately what she did and tried to keep from bawling (or killing her) in the middle of a very busy salon. I grabbed the boys, paid, then proceeded to break down once we got to the van.

Imagine if you will, short hair, all around the top, like from ears up, then one stupid long layer of hair at the ears and hanging down. Can't imagine it? Thats probably because its never been seen before. It was HIDEOUS, like a french poodle with a mullet.

Come home, cry some more while Richard tries to console me with "it will grow out" and "aww, its not that bad", all the while, wondering how the hell I'll fix this. Now since Patric left the salon, every time I'd ask where he went (each time strategically asking a different stylist, hoping for a different answer,) it was always an "I don't know - he may come back". But this time it may have been the tone of my voice, or the look on my face, but someone finally told me the general location of the salon he was working now. Armed with that information, and www.whitepages.com, I found him in less than three phone calls, where I got him on the phone, proceeded to scold him for not telling me he was changing salons, and make an emergency appointment for him to try to fix this mess.

Upon walking into the salon, the look on his face made me cry (I told you.. hideous.) While he explained that he did not have my number, just my name. And that the old salon knew exactly where he was, and should have, as they said they would, let his clients know where he went. And well, he fixed it as best he could, which means most of it had to be cut off into a style that is sooooooo not me.

See I'm not really a girly girl - I don't normally wear make up, and I certainly don't fuss with my hair. Because my hair is so curly, I like to be able to wash - condition - apply gel, scrunch, maybe add a headband or barrette, and go. This style? Requires more time, more fuss, and worse, more product. That, and it makes me seriously look 10 years older. With my first annual 39th birthday coming up in November.. looking older is not the look I'm shooting for, ya know?

So now I'll keep going to see Patric every few weeks for maintenance as it grows in, trimming up the bottom and evening out the top. But since my hair grows so slowly, it may be next spring before I'm back where I want it to be. Thank goodness, its hat season.

I'm glad to have found Patric, but wow, what a price to pay for it!

P.S. please don't ask for pictures.. pretty please, I'm begging you.

Around a year ago on this day..

• Sorry, not much to say the past few days - 2005