okay, so. right after I was informed (by my kindergartener nonetheless) that my hair looked kinda funny in the back, I immediately bolted upstairs to my bathroom so I could take a closer look.
oh my goodness. what I saw frightened me.
my hair! the back of it looked like one big, fat, poofy square, with no shape to it whatsoever. also, it was totally uneven at the nape of my neck, with the hairline cut higher in the center and then sort of tapering down towards my ear lobes, like an upside down U. I seriously looked like a frazzled, unstylish mom of ten kids. ish, ish, ish.
no wonder Aubry didn't want me to see the back of my head.
near tears, and fearing people would point me out at Winter Services and ask, "who's that lady over there with the square head?" I went back downstairs and asked Gary for his opinion.
"so, would you go out in public looking like this?" I asked him. ignoring me, he continued on with loading the supper dishes in the dishwasher.
"excuse me, but I asked you a question. would you be embarrassed to be seen with me?" again, no answer.
I continued to pester him. "yoo-hoo? anybody home?" finally, he looks at me and says, "well, here's the deal. if I say your hair looks fine, you'll tell me I'm lying. if I say it looks horrible, you'll run away sobbing. therefore, I'm not gonna say anything at all."
right then I decided I was going to go back and get it fixed. I mean, heck if I was going to pay $38 for a stinkin' haircut only to be forced to wear a shower cap on my head until it grew back out again. how miserable is that?
the next morning I called Aveda and told the receptionist about my hair debacle. "oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," he says, apologetically. "just stop by when you have a chance and we'll be more than happy to make it right."
after the kids get home from school, I race back over there. thankfully it was Aubry's day off, so I see a different gal this time. as I'm sitting in the chair trying to explain the look I'm after, I can see her in the mirror studying the back of my head. frowning, she says, "well, I'll do the best that I can to alleviate the situation. and then she starts cutting. and cutting, and cutting, and cutting. just when I'm about to ask if I have any hair left, she sets down the scissors and hands me the mirror so I can have a look. "well, what do you think?" she asks. "it's, uh, short," I say. but at least it looks better than it did.
or so I thought.
I had every intention to finish writing this post last night, but then this happened:
um yeah, I was upstairs talking on the phone when I heard this horribly loud crash. it sounded like something more than a dish breaking, and I thought to myself, hmmm, wonder what that was. about 30 seconds later, Rowan comes racing into my room, his eyes big as saucers. breathlessly, he informs me, "mom! mom, it's broken!"
I hang up the phone and scramble downstairs, with Rowan right on my tail. the instant I spy the broken window, Rowan starts jumping up and down yelling, "it wasn't me, it wasn't me!" I just about lost it. oh, Rowan, you poor kid.
well, turns out Jake was the culprit. apparently, he swung a wooden stick at a ball that was laying on the floor and whoops, the stick flew out of his hands and had an up close and personal encounter with the living room window. the poor kid felt terrible. but then I told him he has a few more windows to break before he catches up to his dad, and that brought a smile to his face.
and so Rowan catches a break this time, lucky for him.
PS. I apologize for dragging out this haircut story. I promise I will wrap it up tomorrow.