In which Icklewriter gets the WORST haircut ever in Juggling with Hedgehogs

I really should take my own advice and steer clear of hairdressers until I die. The lockdown/pandemic situation just meant my hair grew really long - which was great, because the LAST haircut I had was ridiculous. She nearly scalped me, and I came away nearly in tears and vowed to never go near a hairdresser again, and I kept that up - mostly. But it got very long, and very heavy, and the ends needed a good trim, and I quite fancied having my layers cut back in again, so off I went. The lady was English, so there was no problem with her not understanding me - except, as it turns out, there was.

My hair is curly - wavy-curly really. Thick. Wiry. Quite hard to manage, but it can look great with some solid TLC and lot of difussing. So I generally don’t mind it when a hairdressers says they need to reduce the ‘weight’ a little bit. Go for it is my usual response, because reducing the weight usually means blunt cutting the ends and then adding in layers to soften it. But not this lady. Her way of reducing weight was razoring.

YOU DO NOT RAZOR CURLY HAIR.

Oh my god. My hair is now THIN. It has a ridiculous shape, like someone has stuck a cap on top of my head, flattened my hair for about 3 months and left the rest to blow in the breeze. I have clown hair. The ends are THIN too, and just look like really severe split ends. In fact, I am now going to have to cut at least 2 inches off it to make it look remotely like it has a shape. And there are random sticky-out bits. That’s fairly normal after a haircut, the sticking out, until things settle, but this is not normal at all. People, I cannot concentrate, my hair is so bad. I really wish I could turn back the clock, because she cancelled the appointment, and for about a second, I was disappointed, and then I thought ‘oh well, never mind, I can just trim it myself’ and then she contacted me and said she could do it after all, and like a mug I went, instead of saying ‘no, that’s OK I’ve already cut it now’ or some other lie.

I can’t stick my hair back on. I can’t re-THICKEN it. I have to wait, probably another two years, for the bits she razored out to work their way back again, and that process is going to involve random bulkiness in random places where she cut it right to my fucking SCALP.

I am so livid. I can’t even begin to find the words for how livid I am, frankly.

So this is my official statement, which I request you all hold me to: I AM NEVER GOING TO A HAIRDRESSER AGAIN IN MY FUCKING LIFE.

Last updated August 25, 2022