A Pretty Girl's Nightmare.

Saturday morning I woke up to an alarm a bit hung over, but glad of course that I didn't stay out as late as the Force. Waking up to an alarm on Saturday definitely goes somewhere near the top of my list as "worst feelings in the world." This Saturday morning it was particularily worse. I had the long awaited hair appointment in Kasimpasa.

I was so affraid of this hair appointment that I even bought a magazine that consisted only of pictures of funky hair cuts for more than a million. I knew I needed a picture since there was no way I would be able to communicate with the stylist exatly what I wanted. Normally I wouldn't be so superficial but it's much more important when it's impossible to express yourself through oral communication you at least want to be able to let people know how cool you are by having a rockstar hairstyle.

I also got a reference from a colleague. She also needed to get her hair cut. We decided to go together to someone who was friends with her mother. She said it was a small shop but the guy really knows how to do hair. Don't ask me why I believed her.

As soon as I walked in to the salon my vision of looking like Karen O from the Yeah Yeah Yeah's, was shattered. The girl ahead of me walked out with pretty-girl hair. I hate pretty-girl hair! There was no way I could turn back now. I was locked in for fear of hurting my colleagues feelings. So...I took a deep breath and let him do his magic.

It was the worst experience at a salon in my life. Not only did did the stylist chop my hair to look like a television news anchor from some small town in Wisconsin, but the 16 year old assistant also copped a feel in a few places he should not have been feeling. Instead of me paying them for their services, we should have at least broke even for the service the assitant stole from me.

The worst part is not that I look like a mom that wants to be cool, but that I have to tell my colleague how much I like it. ARGH!!!

I reeeaally wish I still had Ozan's hat.