Yes, I have been a victim of Great Cuts, which are not "great" as in awesome, terrific, fierce, but rather great in it's awfulness, as in the Bush Administration. My hair sits on my head like an inverted birds nest, flat on top and puffy around the ears. The back is a disaster that I don't even want to talk about.
I've been meaning to march back into that salon and tell "Wanda," if that really is her name, to try again. But I haven't yet because I don't want to start shit with a person with the stature and personality of Lurch and the personal style of Edgar Allen Poe. Also, I haven't had one possible minute where I could go to get this damage repaired, what with Doc almost dying and then throwing himself gamely back to work. Plus I'm working a lot and I'm going to need some time when someone can hang out with the girls while I investigate the 2 hours it's going to take to make this right.
Fortunately, the Miracle Worker called me moments ago. My Mom made an emergency call to her last night on her cell because we had spent the evening listening to me bemoan my "Moe." The Miracle Worker, aka Renee, is my mom's hairdresser and she is FAB-U-LOUS. She's also very busy and the reason I don't go to her regularly is that both our schedules are very nearly incompatible. She is in Canada on vacation and promises to get me in on Monday or Tuesday.
Fortunately, most people are letting me slide on this moment of unfierceosity and I'll be spending the weekend cleaning with the Cap'n. I can slap on a babushka til Monday when I can lean back and let Renee make it all better.