The problem with short hair . . .

The worst part about having short hair is having to rely on someone else to cut it the way you want it.  Not a problem when you have long hair. Obviously you want it cut one way: not short.  That is why - up until 5 years ago - I cut my own hair.  Since then I have tried a number of styles, but I always opted for short.  However, no matter who I went to or what I paid for a haircut, noone seems to be able to cut it the way I want it.  Maybe those evil demon beauticians have an agenda all their own and they just don't want to succomb to my wishes, or perhaps the reason is that they never actually get to cut hair.  Since everyone has long hair, they only get to trim it. So when someone walks in needing an actual hair cut instead of a hair trim, they start to quiver with excitement.  Such was the case last January when I walked into the beauty shop across town asking for a hair cut (Wrong choice of words to start off with).  The beautician (and I use that term very loosely) cut and cut and then she cut some more.  Just when I thought she was done she shaved my neck.  I looked like a lesbian or a man.  I still couldn't decide which.  I came home and cried to my husband who consoled me and told me he thought it looked really cute.  I knew otherwise when my mom suggested I put gel in it and spike it.  For 5 long painful months I let it grow.  Praying each day that this would be the day when I could look in the mirror and tell that I was female.  Finally, in June I decided to gamble and try it again.  This time I was certain that if I went to a different salon, and I took a picture in, the lady cutting my hair would be able to see what I wanted it to look like in the end.  This is the picture I took in:

She assured me she could do this.  She began chatting with me and it was about half way through my too short hair cut that I realized it was the same #$%*&%!@  lady that had cut my hair before.  She had moved to this salon and dyed her hair.  Hense the reason I did not recognize her disguise.    She cut and cut and then she cut some more.  I wanted to run screaming from her barber chair! I thought maybe her last name was scissorhands. Since one side of my head was already too short, I tried to take deep breaths while I sat there in horror waiting for her to finish.  When she got done, this is what I looked like:

I'm waiting for October.  Then maybe you will get to see a picture of me with hair!  And I guarantee it won't be short!