The Scissors-They Eated My Hair!

So I decided it was time to get my hair colored again since my roots were about 4 feet long and I desperately needed a trim as when I hold Hayley to put her to bed, she pushes my hair away from her face just like her father does. Bunch of babies. So I needed some inches off and new reddish red-brown and some new streaks. Last time I got some orange bleach streaks to compliment the month of October, which was very autumnal and lovely, but I was inspired by one of Hayley's dolls. What you can't see from the picture to the left, is that with her cute red hair, she has pale pink streaks in her hair and I thought this was so totally cute. So I decided I would ask if they could do that.

First things first, these people, they are beauty school students and also, the girl I got today? Very Chinese. Which is fine, if you can understand what she's saying. So I ask her if I can get pink, the instructors helps her figure out what I want and they say it's no problem, and I got the impression they just mix something into the bleach and I'll get pink! Hurrah! So my girl gets another Chinese girl who is not doing anything and they start on my color. I'm thinking that since there are 2 of them this will just fly by! Well it did until they got to the crown of my head. Where I wanted streaks. Except they must have thought I wanted a weave. A real tight weave. They spent, no freaking joke, about 30 minutes foiling my hair. They would take about 6 strands of hair and make that one color, then take another 6 strands of hair and make that a different color and so on until I was wearing about 5 pounds of tin foil on my head. I'm little nervous at this point, because these Chinese girls, they were like machines, where I would have given up and just slapped some color on my head, they were meticulous about those 6 strands until the whole top of my head was done. So the bleach and color sat on my hair a few more minutes and then rinse. After the rinse she then put the red color into my hair, which I wasn't sure how this red was going to end up pink but the instructor didn't seem concerned, so I didn't fret. That sat on my hair 10 minutes and got rinsed off. That's when I saw the mirror. My pink streaks were fire engine red. The instructor came and looked and said "looks good" and walked off. Um, excuse me? This isn't close to pink! But I looked at it for a minute and it's pretty cool and I look like a rock star and I was promised that it will fade when I shampoo it.

So the girls get to washing the color off my face. I always came away from getting a coloring looking a bit like a clown. I get red all over my face and it won't come off. So those 2 armed with Q-tips attacked the offending red. They were getting it off my scalp too! They would take a few centimeters of hair, go in-between and scrub off the dye. It was crazy, I have never had someone try to get color off my scalp before, but maybe since it was crazy bright red they didn't want me to look like a freak.

That's when I tried to explain what I wanted to happen with my trim. I wanted about 3-4 inches off it, so that hair doesn't get stuck in my armpit but still fairly long, about 2 inches past my shoulder is what I described. So she starts to cut, and cut and cut and cut. I told her I wanted one little layer that was about an inch off the rest just to add some body and shape. I think I should not have said that. So she layered and layered and then she was done. I looked objectively thinking, 'Well, it's shorter than I wanted, but it's still long enough, it'll grow.' So she dried it and flat ironed it. At this point it was now over 3 hours and while I wasn't itching to get back, I figured the end was near. She spent about 20 minutes flat ironing little tiny pieces of my hair. It was the most thorough styling I've ever had. Then she got her scissors back out. I thought she was just getting a few stay hairs or maybe it wasn't even. No. She was thinning my hair. My already thin, fragile, little hair. Thinning. To add texture I guess. I wanted to cry. I like my hair cuts nice crisp lines. I guess she does not. And with that thinning was more shortening. There was one point where she turned to get a different pair of scissors and I almost took off right at that moment. She took this pair of scissors and added a little really tiny layer about 4 inches from my scalp! I almost lost it right then, but this was some sort of texturing scissors and only cut a few hairs at a time, but still! And she was using her scissors almost like a razor near my face to make more layers! Then she had the gall to ask me if it was short enough. Now that it was about an inch above my shoulders. Yes, I think the 3 inches in length that I'm missing are just fine! Happy smiley face! It had now been almost 4 hours. Four freaking hours! She got me my coat and I ran out of there. I had been planning on giving her a tip, but not after she took the initiative and starting adding crazy layers to my hair. That I didn't ask for! and didn't want! Everyone is saying how cute it is. And they are right. I don't hate it. It very cute and edgy and rock starish, but this is not the color or cut I was prepared for.

So I guess now I have to take my hair vitamins to grows me some more hair fast!

Falling Apart

Does it mean that I have cancer if my lips have been tingly for days? I put on lip balm, but it's no use, for some reason it feels like a little tiny fire has been lit on the left side of my mouth. It's not really painful, just slightly distracting and disconcerting.
Also, I coloured my hair, and in retaliation, it's all falling out. It could be that now that the hair itself is darker I notice it more, but I think it's much more sinister than that. Every time I turn around there's anther hair, clinging to my arm or shirt and let's not even discuss what my brush looks like after I comb my hair after the shower. It's crazy! I'm hoping that wigs these days are better than they were in the Dynasty era. At least if people figure out I'm wearing a wig (like it falls off during a trip to the grocery store into the pile of oranges) that I have cancer and my hair feel out due to the chemo. Maybe I should do some chemo just in case I do have cancer. Maybe it'll be kind of like getting a flu shot. A little anti-cancer vaccine? Probably not.

Anyway. So I've come to terms with this post-baby body. I will never look like Heidi Klum or Jessica Alba, so why try? I've finally decided to buy some clothes that actually fit me, because after a year of working out and trying to lose some of this baby phat, I'm resigned to the fact that this jiggle isn't going anywhere, so rather than look at my closet full of clothes that no longer fit, I'm just going to go buy clothes that actually do fit. I say this with resolve now, but I'm sure once I get under those fluorescent lights in the dressing room, I'll bawl my eyes out and refuse to buy any of the "fat lady" clothes. I'm just so tired of trying to find a wardrobe that 's cute out of old t-shirts and stretch pants (oh the shame!) since I don't even own a pair of jeans that fit me anymore (except the maternity jeans, oh good ol' pregnant clothes!) so rather than lament the lost of my waist, I will accept that my genes are not thin genes and won't get me into any thin jeans in the near future. This is not accepting defeat as much as it accepting the present. I'm not going to stop exercising or trying my best to not eat every pie in this zip code and the next, but if a year can't turn me around, then I need to accept that things haven't worked out as well as I had hoped and realize that winter will be a cold dark time to not have any pants, so I will go shopping, and while i doubt I will find any enjoyment this time, I may find something a little more flattering then the baggy shirts and the lack of pants I currently experience.