Since pandemic restrictions have been largely lifted, I decided it was time to finally treat myself to a proper haircut at a salon. But what ended up happening was anything but a treat; my hairstylist called over another stylist to “look at something”.
No words can convey the horror I felt at that moment. What did I do wrong? Was I going to die?
My requests at the salon were reasonable; I asked for a slightly layered, chin-length bob, and my hairstylist enthusiastically nodded and agreed it would look super cute on me. I relaxed into the chair and awaited the transformation my hair had yearned for this past year.
But a cruel God had different plans.
As my hairstylist was snipping away at the back of my head, I heard a sudden rip, gasp, and then a metal clatter as the scissors hit the floor. The other hairstylist came over and whispered to the other hairstylist, who said, “Leena, what did you do? Oh my god….”
I was quaking in my salon cape.
The other hairstylist said with a poker face, “You know what? I think a buzzcut would look so badass on you. Have you ever considered getting one? Here, look at this picture of Cara Delevingne with one.”
By this point, I know I had done something so terrible that no scissor could ever fix.
With silent tears coming down my face, I received the buzzcut. I do look badass, but I really would have liked my textured bob and less horror in my first salon appointment. I’ll never fully know what happened back there during this year, but perhaps it’s better that my hairstylist protected me from ever knowing.
Here’s to hoping the next one is better. I’m going to ask for highlights.
