What We Have is a Failure to Communicate

Bad hair day
I am umpty-nine years old, nearly an age ending in *ty*. So when the eff will I be old enough that I never have to say, “this is the worst haircut ever?” The answer is, “not this week.”

I took the hairdresser a picture. I said, “I want this haircut.”

Big freaking mistake. I clearly did not give the correct instruction.

The hairdresser proceeds to give me “this haircut.”

Except that when she is finished, the cut on my head looks nothing like the cut on the head of the woman in the picture.

Instructions to next hairdresser, because I am never going back to this one: “I don’t care how you cut my hair, just so long at it LOOKS like this when you are finished.”

Is that clear enough?

There is not enough Pinot Noir to get me through the grow-out phase. But I will give it a try.

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