Haircut Nightmare

Disaster has struck my life. I’ve been inconsolable for over a week now. I’m not sure how much longer I can hide the scars. The stares, points, and laughs I get aren’t getting any less traumatic; most of them from my family and friends. What happened you ask? I…I got…my…BANGS TRIMMED. 

How hard can trimming bangs be? Apparently it is a rare and lost art. It was a dark, dreary night and I was scheduled to work until 8pm. It was only a few days before I was leaving on vacation and I noticed my lustrous, bull bodied bangs were dangling in my eyes. I decided just to stop at the Last Choice Haircutters (it’s really called First Choice Haircutters but after my experience I would choose Michael J. Fox blindfolded as a first choice before this horrendous establishment for my next cut) because it was on the way home from work and I was in a hurry. I thought, it’s a bang trim, it can’t be screwed up. I could not be more in the wrong, even if I took up a job as a retirement home stripper. When I got to the salon, I told her exactly what I wanted and then closed my eyes so the tiny hairs wouldn’t get in them or so she wouldn’t accidently cut off my eyelashes or anything like that. She was doing a lot more scissoring than any previous bang-cutters of mine so I was mildly concerned but out of the goodness of my heart, I trusted her. Well, when I opened my eyes that good heart of mine almost stopped…

“what…the…FUCK…did you do to my hair you crazy bitch!” as I rip the hair-catching cape off in a fit of rage, throw it on the ground and smush it with my foot like a used cigarette. I then grabbed her by her head and shove her face into the comb cleaning solution, grab her scissors out of her hand and chop the shit of BEAUTIFUL hair all the while cackling like a fat witch. This is what I felt like doing. Of course in real life I told her it was fine, paid the five dollars and went to my car to cry. It was and still is a nightmare. It looks like the end of an old broom! It looks like a scarecrows asshole! It looks like the part of a tape roll that cuts the tape! It looks like barbed wire fence! It looks like fucking shit! When I got home I tried EVERYTHING to fix it. I washed it, a straightened it, I gelled it…nothing could tame this beast. There was a whole damn chunk missing from one side! My only hope at this point was a hat.

I NEVER should have trusted this bitch. I hate her with every strand of hair that she brutally dismembered from my head. Was she fucking blind? Did she have a hand tremor? Did I sleep with her husband? I don’t know but whoever let her cut hair should be punished, hard. Since this happened, I’ve been fantasizing about her in dangerous situations. When you lose something so near and dear to your face, it’s hard to recover without feeling anger and pain at first. They were my selling point. When I groomed them, I could really pull off straight across bangs which is hard for most women, but I could do it, me, Chelsea! They exist now, only in my memory (old lady from Titanic voice).

I really hope they don’t take very long to grow back because when I was up in the morning, they stick up vertically from my head. But for now, I will have to put on a brave (and ugly) face until they slowly grow back into some sort of publicly acceptable haircut.