I've finally gotten tired of running around with terrible-looking hair, so I'm trying a new hairstylist tomorrow. I hate dealing with my hair - perhaps even more than I hate shopping for shoes - so it's an effort for me to prepare properly.
I know I should try to come up with a photo of a hairstyle I like, but I never think about people's hair enough to know where to start. My husband has offered to flip through the last few issues of Entertainment Weekly and make some suggestions. I'm happy to take him up on it. He's way more interested in hair and haircare products than I'll ever be.
The one thing I always demand in a hairstyle is bangs. I know, they go in and out of fashion and they may likely be out of style right now. Too bad. I have forehead issues and I refuse to walk around displaying my vast expanse of increasingly creased forehead to the public.
My only other hairdo specification is a reasonable amount of length. I cut my hair short about five or six years ago and was not at all pleased with the result. And what would the heavy metal band think if their new lead singer cut her hair short?! No, I think I need to stay with the shoulder-length hair I have now.
When I get my hair cut, I'm always amused when the hairstylist wants to show me the back of my hair. Sure, I'll take the mirror and have a look - it'll be the last time I see the back of my head until I'm in her chair again. I think of my hair like the facade on a Western movie set: the front's the important part; don't worry about what's behind it. That's probably why I always had a dark spot on the back of my head when I used to bleach my own hair...