Hong Kong Haircut

I hate getting my haircut. I hate moving cities and searching for the perfect colorist and stylist. It makes me sweat. In college, I always went home to Charlotte for a haircut. When I lived in Greensboro, I continued to go home. A year later, I finally bit the bullet and after a few bad haircuts, finally found a girl I loved in Greensboro. So, when I moved to Raleigh, I continued to drive the hour and a half to Greensboro for my haircut. After a year of driving back to Greensboro, and the increase in gas prices, I decided it was time to find someone in Raleigh. I found a girl (who actually went to Elon!), whom I loved. And then we moved....

I can't exactly go back to the US to get my haircut, so I decided I was going to have long hair for the first time in my life. Well, 2 months in, and I'm dying to get my haircut. It's so long, has no shape, and looks awful. I went on a recommendation and made an appointment.

He was the sweetest gay man and we had a lovely conversation. He told me he'd take an inch off---well, 4 inches later, he was telling me all about his newest love interest and the scissors kept snipping. I think he was enjoying our conversation so much he forgot about the 1 inch rule. UGH. There goes any hope for my long, luscious locks of hair. Now, it's short and can barely fit in a ponytail.

No need to leave comments saying how good it looks to make me feel better! I know it will grow. I'll give it six months, and then I'm on the hunt for a new stylist. You can never escape bad haircuts...even in Hong Kong.