So yesterday I was badly in need of a haircut. I have never had my hair that long before and it was dangerously close to becoming a mullet *shudder*. My hair was down below my collar and my bangs were down to my nose. Anyway.
So I went up to my local hair-cutting place, walked in and said I needed a haircut. Normal procedure. The lady took me back, sat me down...and then asked me the dreaded question; "So what are we doing today?" I stared blankly into the mirror for a second as my mind raced. Although I was outwardly expressionless, I was inwardly panicking. I had no idea...like I never do. So I just told her I wanted it shorter.
10 minutes later I climbed out of my seat, inwardly horrified at what I had become. And yet...for some reason I was incapable of looking the hair lady in the eye and saying, "This hair cut sucks. I NEED to get it fixed." No, instead I smiled, waved goodbye, and sprinted out the door in a panic. Alright, I didn't really do that, but that what I wanted to do.
So I got home and my wife looked at me for a few seconds before laughing. Needless to say I got mad; not at her, but at the thing that was now residing on top of my head. She lovingly said it didn't look that bad, and then after a few minutes we went out on the porch and I risked my life by letting her try and fix it. It actually wasn't that bad when she was done, but unfortunately my hair was too far gone to be resuscitated. So later that night I went back up to the hair place, lied out my you know what, and 32 dollars later I walked out the door and into the world as a human being again.