Livid Rage

As you may know, my hair is part of who I am. Yes, it's only hair, but mine is, for lack of a better word, epic. At least it was.

Saturday, Mr. Security had plans to go out. I dropped Itty Bit off at my Mom's to spend the night. I thought, since I had some time, I'd get a haircut. It'd been about 4 months since I'd had one. 

I told the girl, I wanted 3 to 4 inches taken off, a deep conditioning treatment and for her to defuse it, which is blow it out with a special tool that brings the curl out. 

I don't understand the disconnect. I walked in with hair down to my waist and asked for a basic haircut. That dumb cunt took half my length. 

I left, as soon as humanly possible. The damage was already done. I feared the worst, and worried that I might punch her in her teeth. I had to go. And when I got to a mirror, I started to cry. 

She cut it up to my shoulder blades. Itty Bit and I measured it with a ruler. 9 inches. Nine Fucking Inches. Gone!!!

Now I look like every other soccer mom in the neighborhood, instead of the rock star I really am. I'm average, ordinary.

My hair grows fast. Really fast. But even then it will take 9 fucking months to get it back. And that's only if I don't get another haircut between now and then. 

It's taken every bit of my self control not to go back up there and scream and yell and carry on. I keep telling myself, raging on this dumb bitch will not bring my hair back. But I'm so God damn mad.

As an aside, Mr. Security was very compassionate. He held onto my while I cried. He told me I'm still beautiful. Then he took me out and got me drunk.