I hate my stylist

I went to get a hair cut on Saturday. Getting a hair cut is no small occasion. Not only do I trek all the way to Georgetown to visit my lovely french stylist, I pay him a lot of money to cut my hair the way I tell him to. There is only one problem; he never ever does what I ask him to do.

I'll not belabor the point, but I wanted layers, long layers. So, I say, "Stylist, give me layers" and he says, "No, you want to grow your hair out, right? You have too much hair, I won't give you layers".

Somehow I just can't seem to explain to him what I want (or maybe he just doesn't listen), so I asked him for long bangs... something more like this...(with more clothes)






















and less like this.


















Oh, the drama. I am officially breaking up with my lovely French stylist. (That and he supported Sarkosy in the last election. I simply cannot support that!)