Friday, December 30, 2005

Haircut, soft toys and alcohol.

Not too long ago, I wrote about getting a haircut. Just a trim, and not the image changing one I thought about. Yes, I wanted to stick to my 6th year of Aniston. The keyword being 'wanted'. And true to my word (or something like that) I went ahead and get one.

Result? I have a horrendous haircut now. So bad that I've decided right after the entire ordeal to stay away from people I want to impress because that haircut will do me in IMMEDIATELY. Very bad.

I had the Horrible Haircut shortly after I reached home from Sydney. I thought to myself, "I'm just going to get a trim, nothing too major or radical. So a visit to my nearest hairdresser should be enough."


The place is quite a respectable one, apparently the swanky kind with nice interior and huge L'oreal posters everywhere. I've had my hair cut there many times and I thought it would go fine this time. I didn't know which hairdresser to ask for so I just picked this guy randomly.

Due to the utter breakdown in communication, a trim came across as "I want you to change my entire look". And because of a major oversight, which roughly translated to "It's all my fault because I was too lazy to change into my contact lenses", I couldn't see what the guy was doing because I was told to remove my specs.

In conclusion, I was as good as blind when he cut my hair.

At the end of the entire thing, when I put my specs back on, nothing could wipe the look of sheer disgust and horror off my face. I looked like 15.

I have horrid bangs now, and my long luscious locks (in my opinion) had been reduced to a much shorter crop around shoulder length. Of course my opinion about my luscious locks is biased, since I miss them and things are only BETTER when you've lost them. There's nothing worse than losing something irreplaceable. Like hair.

There's nothing that guy could have done to salvage the situation. Not even a free haircut.

And to prove how bad it is, I will tell you the things I have been through. No photos of course, since I am done feeling depressed and I don't need more people to laugh in my face.

-- a brief timeline of what happened

I was hoping and praying that by the end of the week, my hair would grow out and I wouldn't look as ridiculous as before because I had to walk out of my house, meet people, board the plane etc. Obviously it didn't and I had never been more conscious of how I looked, other than the times when I had bad skin. Which is VERY OFTEN.

I digress.

On my flight to Perth, I was seated with 2 sisters. They were 11 and 13. The flight attendant gave them each a SIA Snoopy plushie. Well, flight attendants usually hand out toys to children to 'bribe' them so they won't make a huge fuss during the flight.

I hate wailing kids, especially when I'm tired and I just want to sleep all the way during my flight. I so wanted to smack that smelly brat behind me when she wailed almost all 5 hours during my flight back.

Anyway... back to inflight toys. The flight attendant then looked at me and gave me a "Erm I'll be right back" look. She returned with a Snoopy toy for me. I was both shocked (not the good kind) and amused that she didn't return with a coloring set for me.

*Rolls eyes*

I've started a whole new thing. I have decided to drink when I take flights. And of course, by drink I mean alcohol guzzling without getting drunk. Not a good thing to be drunk of flights, since any form of swearing/air punching/slurring/threatening other passengers and other general display of drunkeness will probably get you prosecuted and maybe face a lifetime ban from said airline.

I drank my way back from Sydney, so I thought I would drink my way to Perth. I asked for my usual vodka lime, and the flight attendant (another girl) looked at me and said, "Sorry girl, may I know how old you are and may I see some form of identification please? "

Holy smoke.

I'm all of 24 and now because of a ridiculous (both financially and literally speaking) haircut, I have to produce ID to get some booze! I showed her my passport and after a "Oh my, I can't tell! I'll be back with your drink ma'am." I got my booze.

Within a span of 5 minutes, I transformed from girl to ma'am.

Not to mention some strangers (acquaintances now) thought my younger brother is OLDER than I am.

Conclusion: Appearances matter. Get a decent haircut.

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