Before I regale you with a story about my worst haircut ever, make sure you enter my 2nd Birthday Celebration Giveaway!

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Now, like most people, I am no stranger to a bad salon experience; the year 6 bowl cut, the year 8 perm (that dropped faster than the greenback after the GFC hit) and the one that left me arguing with a hairdresser that my hair needed to be dried properly (with the round brush) free after fixing a cut and colour she had previously botched and no I most certainly will not be paying an extra $20 for the privilege. The salon apprentice bore witness to this flipping of the switch but luckily didn't hold it against me as she now has her own salon and is my regular hairdresser.

The year was 2012 and I had received a special deal offer via a friend for a well-known trendy city salon (now defunct) that offered a half price cut, colour, treatment and massage. Being in the market for such a thing, I booked my Friday night appointment and looked forward to my jazzy new 'do.

The appointment was at 6pm and what nobody except me and a chosen few knew was that I was about 11 weeks pregnant at the time. So I went in to the salon a little weary but nonetheless excited. After waiting around, I was led to a seated massage chair for a perfunctory shoulder rub, then to a chair where I met the colourist. Discussions about going for something different ensued, in between interruptions and walk-offs and we finally settled on a "richer, deeper" colour than my current blonde.

Colour goes in, takes a year or so to process, I'm flicking through magazines, get washed off, dried, introduced to the cutter, talk about going for something different away from my stock standard concave bob . . . blah de blah blah . . . and then away she goes with the scissors.

During one of the frequent walk-aways, I looked up and saw the reflection of the back of what I assumed was some male customer's head in the mirror until I realised with a sickening lurch that was my boy-short, brown hair I was looking at. One side had already been lopped short so when she finally returned I declared my enthusiasm for the assymetrical look to keep me from looking like I was about to enter the army.


By this time - said time being now 9pm - I was super tired, boiling with pregnancy hormones, fighting a chronic and possibly migraine headache (my worst pregnancy symptom besides swollen feet) and just wanted to leave. I paid my (still expensive) discounted price, fighting back tears as the staff smiled uncomfortably. Drove home fighting the pain in my head, having to turn the radio off and shield my eyes from indicator lights when stopped as they drove into my skull.

I seriously considered calling in sick until it grew back but when I showed up mortified to work on Monday, everyone was very supportive and either lied nicely or genuinely liked it. Luckily my pregnancy hair growth meant it was short-lived (albeit deeply traumatic) and my hairdresser Mikala did a good job of reshaping it as it grew back.

What was your worst ever haircut?

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