Bad Haircut

Every Summer, just when the temperature begins to rise, I take Rusty–my Shiba Inu/Terrier mix–to get shaved at Petco, and he always comes back home with an attitude. Not until last Wednesday did I understand why.

My son had Taekwondo class at 4:15 p.m. at the Titus Institute, and my husband was able to take him. I left my boys at the class and ran to the Great Clips next door for a quick trim. Even though this franchise has a reputation of “assembly line” hair cuts, I trusted this place for almost a year without complaint. Unfortunately, that day, a comet was crossing the Earth’s orbit because a rain of meteors crashed on my head. 

Sitting in front of the mirror I told the hairdresser: “Please, cut it even long the back and just a few layers in the front to frame my face“. Dear Reader, did that sound like English or Chinese to you? I guess my Latin accent confused her–not that I sound like Sofia Vergara on Modern Family.

All I know, is that 15 minutes later I left that clip joint wearing a “mushroom” hat made out of bangs coming from the middle of my head complemented by a sexy mullet in the back. I was in a hurry to see my son at his “super heyo” class as he he calls it, so I put up my hair in a bun and only realized the extent of the disaster the next morning. When I was blow drying it, short, wavy, and frizzy hairs were pointing to the sky making me look like Albert Einstein after electroshock therapy.

Although I wanted to hide from the world, I had to go to my son’s preschool Mother’s Day celebration at 12:15 p.m. I wore the “happy face” mask for my baby and his class, and then I spent the rest of the afternoon looking for a professional hair place. Do you know one? Where you have to make an appointment before you go, because they don’t take “walk-ins” and actually know how to cut hair? That kind of place. But off course, my luck, they were all booked so I had to wait two days.

On Thursday morning, I was at the Salon & Spa Indulge at 11 a.m. sharp. The nicest girl from Ohio, named Becky, rescued me from going off the deep end. I asked her to give me her cell phone and warned her that I would stalk her if she ever left the salon. I’m not kidding; another bad haircut and I might become the female version of Rambo.

When I got home from my repair hair appointment I looked at Rusty; he fixed his eyes on me, and I could swear he was telling me: “Now you know what I feel like when the Petco woman shaves the hairs around my butt too short. Pay back!“.

There was my lesson of the week. I truly believe Rusty was a wise man in another life because he teaches in silence, like Yoda from Star Wars. He is a dog of principles. For that, and because I love him, I promised that the next time he goes for a shave, I will ask the groomer to be careful, because nobody deserves a bad haircut, especially around the butt.

Thanks for reading and sharing.

Xiomara Spadafora

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