It’s useful, in limited situations, to be a people pleaser. Other than the emotional toll it takes on me, it also gets some good results. It makes sense, right? People like people pleasers. That’s the point.
But it’s not so spectacular to be a people pleaser with your hair stylist. Especially if she’s edgier, younger, and in a totally different demographic than you. Also, it’s bad if she’s drunk and/or high.
You know where this is going right? This post tees up my new do.
I have no one to blame but my codependent self. Right after Sadie was born, I instituted a cardinal hair rule: no bangs. The punishment for getting bangs would be having to have bangs so I felt like the rule would be easy to obey.
And it was. Til yesterday.
Me (to myself as I was parking the car): We are clear, right? No bangs.
Then, I sat down for that pre-cut chat.
Hair stylist: What are we doing with your hair today?
Me: I want to look less like a soccer mom.
Hair Stylist: How about bangs?
And that’s how I got this haircut that is, as close friends have pointed out, “not my best.”