I Done Chopped My Hair Off

And I look like a cross between Sandra Dee and Shirley Temple. And a poodle.

One of the things I have been pretty cautious about since moving has been finding a hairdresser. I’m pretty attached to my hairdresser in Maple Ridge. He does both of my sister’s hair as well, and they have damn good hair. It’s hard to find someone you trust to attack your head with a pair of scissors and colour-altering chemicals. I have nothing but utmost faith in him.

So yes, super nervous to allow someone else to touch my hair. At the end of the day I know it’s just hair and whatever, but it’s my freaking crowning glory. Like a medieval princess, my entire self worth rides on my golden tresses.

Not really. But I do like my hair a lot.

I asked several women in my office about the local hair dressers. I asked for recommendations, which turned out to be futile since everyone seems to go to ‘some friend out of their house’. Even though there are like, nine salons in Quesnel. So I finally took one recommendation for a local salon and was totally shocked when I could get an appointment the next day. Vancouver salons? Try next month.

So I took the picture of what I wanted to the hairdresser, which was a layered shoulder length bob with side-swept bangs.

I got this:

I’m not even kidding. As she was blowing my hair out straight, it looked great. Just what I wanted, if a little shorter.


I know that using a straightener to curl your hair is a thing now. It’s normal. However, it is not normal to turn your client into a walking, talking impersonation of Sandy at the leather pants part of Grease.


I could not even look in the mirror without laughing. I recreated the above clip in my bathroom.

And when I tried to brush out the curls? I looked, no joke, EXACTLY LIKE RIZZO.

Maybe it’s meant to be?


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