I brought a picture of a sleek shoulder-length bob with long swoopy side bangs. That was the haircut I wanted. The haircut I received was a choppy mess of extremely short layers and blunt bangs. Holy hell. Not at all what I wanted. An entire chunk of my hair was just sitting lifeless on top of my head--not at all blended into the rest of my hair. The hair stylist knew he messed me up big time. However, he did try to blame the awful bangs on a previous haircut. "Are you sure the last person who cut your hair didn't mess them up?" Um. Dude. My "bangs" were at my chin when I came to you this morning. I was very vocal about how unhappy I was, and he didn't let me pay for the monstrosity. (He honestly looked like he was going to cry as I left the salon.) As soon as I got into the car, I called Andrew in hysterics. I was crying so much that he thought I had been in a car accident.
I'm not going to dwell on the bad haircut. Instead, I am going to thank the powers that be for my stylist returning to the states and taking pity upon me last night. She heard about my unfortunate situation and told me to come in so she could fix it. The result is a fabulous haircut, though I'll admit it is MUCH shorter than I had hoped for.
It's funny... I initially was considering going for a short cut so I could finally donate my hair to locks of love. I ultimately decided I didn't want to lose that much hair and set my sights on a shoulder length cut--about five inches shorter than the style I had at the time. In the end, I definitely lost enough hair to donate to the organization. Oh, well.