She ruined my hair, and my confidence in humanity.

I knew going in that she wouldn’t be what I was used to. Celeste knew me. She knew more about me than my own mother (literally). She knew what I did for a living, which sports teams I followed, where I liked to spend my weekends, and most importantly, she knew exactly how I liked my hair to be cut.

I knew going in that she wouldn’t be what I was used to. I had an open mind, but she would be my Fort Wayne Celeste - just a little different. She wouldn't look the same, but she would get me, she would be brilliant, and she would do a first-rate job on my fade.

Boy was I wrong.

So what happened? Well let me say, if you’ve ever had a haircut, and I assume you have because I don’t know too many hippies, you know that 75% of what makes a great haircut is the conversation. She didn’t know me from Adam, and she didn’t care to. She had the personality of a potato, and couldn’t help but be completely awkward. Strike one.

For the most part she followed my detailed instructions for completing the unthinkable - a perfect first haircut. She used the #2 clippers on the sides and back, she barely touched my sideburns, and she used scissors to finger length on top. Then, she went rogue. She tossed the guard and shortened the area above and behind my ears to what I can only describe as a Johnny Unitas “high and tight” military jarhead catastrophe. Strikes two, three, four…

When she asked “well, what do you think?”, I couldn’t hold my tongue. I politely asked her to fade the front into the back a little more, as it “was a little shorter than I was used to”. She worked a little, then proceeded to tell me that “next time we would use a #3 guard”, as if I was wrong in asking for a #2. Let me tell you, she did not use a #2. Strike ten for putting THAT on ME, lady.

I knew going in that she wouldn’t be what I was used to. I was open to something new. I wanted her to be my new Celeste, but she was the total opposite, and I’ll never see her again. I left a $5.00 tip and sped back to my fortress of solitude to begin the healing (and growing) process. My first Google search when i got out of there was "ways to make your hair grow faster", coupled with stopping by Target for a bottle of "Mane 'N Tail".

I’ve now spent the last 24 hours silently willing my hair to grow out just a fraction of an inch, because every little bit is going to help. I’ve also been stalking Celeste’s calendar to schedule my next appointment in Columbus, where I’ll feel comfortable and confident that I’ll look like me again in a month or so. In the meantime, it's back to the drawing board for finding someone to just not do a terrible job in Fort Wayne, so I'm not driving 3 hours each way for a haircut for long.