I thought the only people with obvious difficulty measuring were men with Dicklexia. I was wrong.
Last weekend, my highly stressed out, uber-OCD hairdresser (yes, I know I’m supposed to call her a ‘stylist’, but I don’t; never have, never will) was supposed to trim an inch (ONE inch) of length from my hair. One inch. That’s it.
One.
Inch.
One Inch!
Miss Shears-a-Lot clearly never passed elementary math. Or if she did, she was using a ruler from another planet. Because *SIX* (SIX!) inches (six inches!) later, I had to threaten her with bodily harm to get her to stop cutting.
Snip, snip.
“Girl, if you want to avoid getting them shoved into your eye socket…”
Snip, snip, snip.
“…Put. The scissors. Away.”
Snip.
“NOW!”
So my hair *used to* fall below my bra line.
Now it falls to the middle of my shoulder blades.
Six inches! (SIX!)
That’s half a foot!
Grrr…
But it’s not foot measurements that put this situation in the proper perspective. Think about it this way: She shortened my curlies by an average (that’s what *I* consider average, anyway) cock length.
And it’ll take me a year to…erm…get it back up (heh) to the length it used to be.
FUCK.
Fuckity-Fuck, Fuck, Fuck! (And I don’t mean that in a let’s-have-a-bout-of-sweaty-sex kind of way.)
Aaauuugggh!
I would Fire her!
When I was a teen, I had a mullet. (Hey! We all did then.) One time I let my friends sister cut my hair. When she was all done with the bangs she cut off my pony tail! :(( (She thought my mom would like it. SHE NEVER EVEN MET MY MOM!) … Needless to say, I haven’t let anyone without a license near my hair with scissors since. (And I still get nervous.)
She might be fired. I haven’t decided yet. I’ve been going to her for five years, and she’s always done an awesome job. But even though this was a one-and-only-time type screw-up, it was kind of major one.
Ah, the mullet. Circa 1988. Lol. And a tail! Just a skinny little piece of hair hanging down the nape of the neck! Ri. Dic. U. Lous. I knew someone who grew his tail til it hit the small of his back. I always wanted to yank on it whenever I saw him.
I know you’re de-mulleted these days, Furbal, but how long is your hair?
I never had a tail. My dad always said that if I grew (or cut) one of those that he’d cut it off while I slept! (I didn’t want one anyway.)
My hair is fairly long these days, although many years ago it was even longer. I’m wondering how long is too long? (Is there such a thing? lol) … It’s more than halfway down my back. If I tilt my head back, it can go past my waist. There was a time when I would be sitting on it even with my head straight. I’ve been growing it for about five years and it hasn’t seen a pair of scissors in over four.
No scissors in four years? Two words for you, Fur: Split Ends. Lol.
I don’t think there’s such a thing as ‘too’ long. The longer it is, the more there is to wrap my fingers in…
And pull. 😉
When my kids were looking at my high school yearbook they asked, was it all girls in your school? No, no one had short hair then. And there were no bearded girls in my class either. If any of the girls shaved it was just their legs. I’m sure I would’ve heard rumors if they shaved elsewhere. Actually I’m not really fond of the shaved look, it’s too much like a little girl then. But I’ve heard rumors about a coworker that could have braids.
Oh, I was going to say that I call that condition lessdicksia when it affects me.
Lessdicksia?!? ROFL. You crack me up!
And now I want to call you Les. 😉
Arch doesn’t like the shaved look either; says it creeps him out. I totally get where you’re both coming from on that one.
As for bearded ladies…
I’m a Wookie. Believe me, Chewie ain’t got nothin’ on me! So thank God for Nads wax and Lady Schick. Lol. And I’m convinced that tweezers are the best invention of all time.