Once upon a time in a land far away—112 miles from a decent hair salon to be exact—lived a muckle of frizz named Bossy. And this Bossy was in the habit of getting her hair cut by people who made her cry, until she met her Italian boyfriend who believed in embracing the Inner Curl.
But Antonio was expensive. Not new-roof expensive, but ticket-to-Arizona expensive. And so Bossy had to look elsewhere, and that elsewhere was in the produce aisle of her local grocery store where Bossy asked her friend where she got her hair cut, because this friend is a super cute Yoga Instructor with yoga clothes and a yoga physique and damp yoga curls springing around her neck.
They chatted about their problem hair and by the end of the day Bossy had an appointment with the Yoga Instructor’s hairstylist because Bossy failed to recognize that the only way Bossy is going to truly look like the Yoga Instructor is by doing actual yoga.
Anyway. As you may remember, on haircut day Bossy was very prepared. She drove to the salon armed with photos of her own hair so the stylist could
replicate duplicate attempt to match Bossy’s previous haircut:
Not only that—Bossy was worried about her hair color, so she brought a photo that detailed the highlights she got in
Nirvana New York:
Right. And this was the stylist’s recipe for achieving Bossy’s desired results: she snipped Bossy’s hair for two minutes and then applied a black tar. The end.
The haircut wasn’t going to be something the stylist could improve since that involved the hair that had fallen to the floor, but Bossy was very disappointed in her highlights and she wanted them reapplied for free—and so Bossy phoned the salon and this is how she delicately phrased her dilemma:
So, take two: and Bossy is back at the salon:
And just to mix things up a little, this time Bossy went into the salon armed with a photo of her hair when it was highlighted properly:
The stylist and Bossy studied the photo and they both agreed that what Bossy currently needed was more highlights. To cover up the Ash Toner She Admitted She Applied Last Time. Yes way. Then Bossy told the stylist that additional highlights sounded just fine, as long as her hair didn’t turn out brassy. And then Bossy voiced concern over her roots—namely that she had
so many so soon after she paid $100 to cover them. The stylist assured Bossy she would handle the roots.
The highlight color was mixed and applied and then Bossy
hid in the bathroom went to the mirror to admire the handiwork:
An hour later Bossy left the salon with soaking wet hair and no real idea how the color turned out because she was in a hurry to meet some friends for dinner:
So it wasn’t until after her hangover subsided that she discovered this:
But at least the stylist handled the roots. She handled them, and then she chose not to highlight them:
Bossy loved discovering the different things about her highlights that first morning. Just like Bossy can’t wait to see what her friend is going to knit out of them!
The moral of the story is: in order to achieve the look you want it’s cheaper to buy yoga pants: