Hair Salon Waiting Room: The Tension Builds

Recently Lorraine and I have both become exasperated with our respective hair situations. Lorraine finally broke down and decided to get her hair cut, and I came along. So here I sit, stealing wireless from the Starbucks next door. Hair cuts are always really complicated for me. First, I never know what I want to do. For example, right now, I oscillate between wanting a slight trim, a long hair style, a short hair style, and a self-buzz cut on an almost daily basis. This always seems to be a problem because when I show up to a stylist, I have little to no input, and inevitably, I get an ugly haircut. This leads to complication #2. I work under the assumption that these people are experts on what hair styles look good on me. Therefore, when they finish cutting, and I look at the damage, I am either too unsure, or too nervous to call them out. So the haircut looks stupid, and I'm stuck with it until my next haircut or until I shave it all off. So despite the fact that my hair is driving me crazy, and my hair is broken and split and pretty much awful, I just can't bring myself to do anything about it. Sitting here, in the salon waiting room, I feel the tension build. The inevitable day of reckoning is on the horizon. It is just a matter of time.