For the Love of God, Don't Get Your Hair Cut at Wal-Mart!

What was I thinking? I have probably lived in the south-central part of our country for way too long now and the warmer, sometimes tropical, climes and longer days have affected my brain. We've been here almost two months--actually seven if you count all the months this year combined: but that included three trips back to New England for hair cuts with James (ok, and other things). Ah, James. Where are you now that I need you most? Oh yes, it is I that left you and everything familiar.

I was in Wal-Mart today. I go to Wal-Mart and sometimes K-Mart (yes, K-Mart). Sometimes these are the only places around here to find what you are looking for, especially housewares (and they are top rate at K-Mart in terms of baking and utensil and storage items). And they're cheap. I've even bought groceries at Wal-Mart. Besides, the nearest Target is in Lexington and that's a 90 mile/90 minute drive.

Wal-Mart, in a really strange and insidious way, is trying to be the new town square: groceries, hardware, optical shop, clothing, dry goods, bank, hair salon. Experientially this does not work for me but I get what they're doing and they're giving it good to small town America. We can single-handedly thank Wal-Mart for taking most businesses away from small towns and rolling up the sidewalk on Mom and Pop businesses on town squares. I am complicit but I am not a convert.

Well friends, that is where I really lost it: at the hair salon. Oh, walk-ins welcome! No one in line, my husband's aunt and I both desperately needed hair cuts. Why not? Well, I should have taken this sign more seriously: "No refunds, no exceptions." Mmm. But consider this, dear reader. I am 1,100 hundred miles from my regular hair stylist. He was the owner and he charged $45 for a cut and wash. Down here that would buy you about three hair cuts (before you throw in the tip). Of course, not being really concerned about such things as finding a new hairstylist (I procrastinate when it comes to things like change), I had reached the point of desperation. Clearly. [Now I believe that's the seventh adverb in this diabtribe--try writing without adverbs, especially when you are upset. It can be difficult. Clearly.]

I have to say in all fairness and full disclosure that my hair has been whacked since spring 2007. I was taking a medication which apparently causes major hair loss in most who take it and I found this out a month later, as I was holding a wad of hair in my hand and surfing Google about hair loss. I had noticed an immediate change in my hair texture and a lot more hair in my sink, shower and hands whenever I touched it. I stopped this medication a year later because losing all of that hair was not helping my anxiety or depression (which is why I was on Lexapro in the first place). Five months later, post pill purge, I'm still losing my hair. Perhaps it takes longer for the hair root, shaft and follicles to realize it is no longer depressed. Let's hope so.


Disclaimer: This is not me, it is Victoria Beckham (aka "Posh" Spice). She seems to have started the trend of the female reverse mullet which has been cranked to the max down here below the Mason-Dixon line.

So I've had a lot of bad hair days this year and I can't entirely blame the stylist (hair hacker) at today's salon. I would say I have what is probably termed a reverse mullet but the more conservative variety you see on many women down here or on Oprah audience members. I asked for a bob, shorter than my former hair but not shorn like a sheep. Well, baa. Baa, baa, baa. The back is short and curly (ok, we won't go there) and the front is like two big long forelocks. If my hair wasn't naturally curly these would be as straight as a horse's mane. A reverse mullet is like a traditional 1920s style bob on major steroids.


Meet the Mullets! [Or is this Wilma, Pebbles and BamBam?]

Meanwhile, my husband pointed out that you could see my scalp in places in the back. This is after I said, "aren't you going to comment on my hair cut?" He hadn't noticed until I mentioned it. For the rest of the evening I could forgive the odd looks he was giving me. And then he got physically ill. I'm not kidding. Sick as a dog. Confined to his room ever since.

I am heading to a conference tomorrow. Never get a haircut two days before you have to speak in front of large room of people you've never met before. While I will have visions of them in their underwear, they will be wondering, who is this radiation victim? Well, she got what she paid for: at Wal-Mart.

More about hair wars when I return (and more pics!).