Party like it's 1984

My dad once recruited the help of a man in the ward to redo his master bathroom. As the man fixed up the bathroom, it became clear he had no idea what he was doing. The tile was not matched up, the molding (is that what it is called?) was the wrong type of material and came off in chunks every time it got wet (which was every time someone would shower). The bath tub was actually tilted so that water pooled in the corner.

"Dad, he's ruining your bathroom!" I said to him.

"Shhhhh, it's ok."

"Why are you so afraid to say anything to him? I'm sure he could fix it if you said something."

"He's inactive. I don't want to hurt his feelings."

I was a little bit flabbergasted, but not surprised. That's just my dad. He's been like that his whole life. He is willing to be taken advantage of if he believes it is in the best interest of the other person and his relationship with them or if he doesn't want to cause any sort of contentious feelings.

I've been that way too. When a situation happens in which I feel like I've been short-changed, I just keep my mouth shut. When asked my opinion, I will usually just agree with the majority vote so as to not ruffle any feathers. If someone does something that irks me and then says, "Oh, you're ok with this right?" I will stutter and say, "Yeah, it's fine!" even though I am secretly pissed off inside. I've been like that...until now. The change occurred when I was pregnant. I suppose I was just too tired to be taken advantage of anymore. Most the time I feel like I get a good deal for my money or time and if disagreements occur, it's for valid reasons like simple differences of opinion. But the rare situations when I feel taken advantage of were not going to be swept under the rug anymore. 

When I politely ignore a less than satisfactory product or effort, I am actually doing the person a disservice. If they keep doing something or selling something that multiple people are dissatisfied with, it will only hurt them because more and more people will be dissatisfied with their service.... is the "nice" justification of why I have changed.  The real reason is simply that I want to get what I paid for or asked for.  

A few months ago, my sister and I went through the drive-through at KFC and they totally screwed up our order. No sauce for the chicken, forgot a drink, forgot a biscuit. We were home by the time we realized the mistake and we immediately went back. We went in and I asked to speak to the manager. He asked to see our receipt and undaunted, I gave it to him. He scrutinized it, searched through our bag of food, and then apologized and fixed the order, along with three free biscuits.

This was totally out of character for me, as typically I would be the one standing sheepishly behind the one demanding to see the manager, shielding my face and acting like I belonged to a different party. But I felt empowered. I deserve to get what I paid for.

Something like this happened again a few weeks ago. I went to get a hair trim with my little sister. She took us to Great Clips in West Valley and a woman named September trimmed my hair. There is a reason I provide these specific details. Is you happen to go to September and love how she does your hair, awesome! Then ignore this. But if you don't, be warned. She trimmed my hair into a mullet. I sat and watched her take chunk after chunk off my hair and felt my stomach dropping, hoping with increasing despair that somehow when I styled it, it would look ok.

I had been growing my hair out for more than a year. There have been only two times in my life that my hair has been longer than my shoulders, and I was determined that I would grow it out again. I would grow it long and thick! I've been taking prenatal vitamins since August and the results have been incredible. In a year, my hair has gone from the short length of right below my ears to the long (for me) length of just past my shoulders. And it was thick too.

"Your hair is so THICK!" September said, and grabbed what looked like a pair of scissor with the ends cut off and went to town, hacking away at my hair.

"No, no, NO!" I thought. "I WANT it thick! I just want a trim!"

By the time she was done, it was short and thick on top and long and stringy on the bottom. The length was intact, but what long pieces that were left were so thin. It was basically two distinct, very different layers. It was emo hair.

September was kind of an emo/rocker girl herself, so I can see why she did it to my hair. Some people can pull off the emo hair, but it wasn't what I asked for or wanted. I could have even lived with it but to make matters worse, September took the "side-swept bangs" way too far on one side, and there was nothing left for me to even pull behind my ears. On one side, it was a straight up mullet.

Needless to say, I went home and cried. I tried styling it, crying as I did so. I realized that a year's worth of work, of not dying my hair and keeping it away from blow dryers and straighteners and curlers, of taking vitamins- all went to waste. A year of having plain, mousy hair and looking like a frump, only with an end result of looking like a white-trash mullet-queen. That's enough to make one bawl, don't you think?

And so that part of me that would no longer be taken advantage of called up September. "I just came in and had you do my hair, do you remember?" I asked her.

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, you ruined my hair. It's a mullet on one side." I could not believe the words were coming out of my mouth. Never in a million years...

She huffed and hawed for a minute and finally said defensively, "Well, you were very adamant about how you wanted your hair."

"Yes I was!  I wanted a trim, not a mullet!" I said, openly crying at this point. "Nevermind. Can you fix it?"

"Of course. I'm here tomorrow from 1-9, and since you've already been here, I can bump you up to the front if anyone else is in line."

"Alright, thank you," I said, and by "thank you," I really meant, "thank you for not being in my presence right now, or you would be made to be very sorry." I would not be going back to September to have my hair fixed.

I spent several weeks in mourning over my hair. Every day I would try to style it and end up crying in front of the mirror. This sounds superficial, but I really REALLY wanted long hair. I really love having short hair, so this shouldn't have been a big deal for me. Hack it off and then I'm back to the short-hair-at-heart girl that I am. But I had put such effort into growing it that I really and truly felt very sad. I was mourning over the fact that a year's worth of work was destroyed in 15 minutes. I had trusted something very important to me to someone I did not know. I decided then and there that there are some things that should always be splurged on. Foundation, running shoes, bras, and now add to the list hair cuts. Some things should not be given the chance to be screwed up, and paying extra for them is worth it.

My cousin Tara is a hair stylist and offered to fix it for me. "Can a mullet be fixed?" I wondered to myself, and set up the appointment. She was so nice to do it for me. Thank goodness there are people who have the talent to fix huge screw-ups.

What a difference a color, a GOOD trim, and a few extensions can do.  These are the "after" pictures.  There are no "before" pictures, as I don't ever want photographic evidence that I once sported a mullet.  

The end.

(of my mullet misadventures, hopefully)

P.S. I highly recommend Tara.  She works at Urban Roots in Ogden.  801.392.5663