Today I went to get a haircut. It was time my long, waist-length thick and dark hair was chopped, the weather is hot outside and it was getting difficult to handle. After sitting on the chair, I told the hairdresser that I want layers.
“How short?” she asked.
“Just a few inches”, I answered. So she showed me the length she was going to cut before she started chopping. I wasn’t happy – that was hardly any length at all.
“Can you go a little shorter?” I asked. She was surprised, clients never requested this. They usually just asked her to keep the length, so she showed me that she was going to cut a little bit more off. I agreed, and she began to cut. Thirty minutes later, my hair was much shorter and there was a lot of hair on the floor, on my lap and everywhere around me. I noticed that the lady looked very nervous throughout the time she cut my hair, but I still couldn’t see how much she had cut because all my hair was behind my shoulder, and therefore couldn’t be viewed in the mirror.
Then as she began to dry it, I noticed that my hair was still pretty long. “Actually,” I told her, “Can you cut it a little bit more? Go a little bit shorter?” She put the hairdryer down. Now she was fed up. “Okay,” she answered and turned my chair around so I was no longer facing the mirror. She then began to chop. I couldn’t see or tell how much she was cutting, but in about fifteen minutes after she was done and she had dried my hair, she pushed my chair around so I was facing the mirror again. She went to get another mirror and held it up behind me so I could see. “Happy?” she asked.
My hair was the shortest it’s ever been in a while – just touching my shoulders, thick and choppy. I reached out to pull all my hair in front and realized it’s too short even for that. Not even all my hair fit in a ponytail. My own mistake for asking her to keep cutting.