Before ya’ll get to thinking that this post is going to be a really deep, philosophical look at my relationship with Mr. U, I’ll go ahead and let you know that my trust issues are of the superficial, hairstyling variety. As in, I don’t trust hairstylists.
I don’t know where this distrust began, but I’m convinced that hairstylists will tell you what you want to hear, regardless of how you actually look. Before any hairstylists get their knickers in a twist, I’ll go ahead and explain why I don’t trust hair people.
Example A: My mother allowed her hairdresser to HACK OFF ALL HER HAIR!!! The hairdresser said she looked fabulous. We just stared, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, too shocked to say a word.
Example B: I volunteered to be a hair show model for a renowned, Belgian hairstylist that was doing a demonstration here in Atlanta. I came out with a MULLET. A PURPLE MULLET!!!! It was hideous, but every last hairdresser in the place oohed and ahhed over my hair massacre like it was a work of art. Mr. Unicorn gently told me that it looked as awful as I suspected. Below is the photographic evidence, should you be daring enough to view it. And before you get on to me about the fugly dress, I’ll have you know that they MADE me wear that for the show.
Photo by Paul Mitchell Esani School.