When one has such crippling social anxiety like this, the idea of making a phone call to a hair stylist you met only once, to ask them to recut your hair is on par with dropping by the bureau of prisons and asking to be squeezed into their busy electric chair schedule. It's just not happening. I hate saying the words, "I was unhappy with my cut," but I really was. She was such a nice lady, I couldn't go back and tell her that her efforts didn't work for me. The top layers were massively too long, and it created this triangular appearance that reminded me of a Goomba from Super Mario. (If you don't know what I mean, Google it.) I had to do something, and I chose to do something drastic. I grabbed a spray bottle of water and some sharp snips, and took off more than an inch off the front layers. I left the back completely alone, because it was honestly fine, and I couldn't reach it anyway. Once I had lightened the front to my satisfaction, I showered and restyled my hair. This time it fluffed up appropriately, although I now need to practice getting it to stay when I tell it to lie back from my face. When next I get it cut professionally, I need to ask specifically for this shape. It works for me.
Sometime during lunch and the ensuing meeting, my back started to seize up. I have no idea why it got so angry, but it was enough to completely derail all my plans for the rest of the day. I had to be very still, and take something for the pain. It made me rather apathetic about everything from that point on. I failed to provide myself with an actual dinner, instead eating a handful each of SweetTarts and strawberries. Not my healthiest day.
Here's to hoping for a reset overnight and productivity tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment