I received the horrible news a few weeks ago. I rang my regular salon to book in with my hairdresser only to be told she was no longer with the salon. No amount of pleading, wailing or cash incentives (maybe I made that last one up) could sway the stalwart receptionist into telling me where my old hairdresser had gone. So I hung up. Since then my hair has continued to get longer, messier and my regrowth has started to look like balayage.
Then last week I was asked to write a story for The West Australian that was going to involve me being photographed, so I had no choice but to finally had to bite the bullet and confront my fear. Calling the salon again, I ate humble pie and politely asked for them to book me in with a new hairdresser.
I won't bore you with all the details of what went on during that fateful three hours (sitting in a hairdressers chair for three hours is boring enough without reading about it as well) but despite some initial misgivings - the hairdresser had her fingernail tips painted glittery gold - I didn't leave the salon with a lopsided do or horrifying orange streaks. The cut is not too short and not too long and hasn't left me with the triangle shape do every curly-haired woman fears. The hairdresser's careful application of fine foils in three different colours resulted in a soft and natural look. Today I am breathing a giant sigh of relief.
Not only did I survive the experience unscathed (this time) but my husband commented the cut made me look like Jennifer Aniston. I may have found a new hairdresser.
Now it's your turn to share your horrifying hair stories. Have you been forced into a new salon by a cruel twist of fate only to have the best haircut of your life or have you had a truly unimaginable hair disaster?
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