Usually when I go to get my hair cut, this is what happens:
I tell the person I’m growing my hair out, so just to trim it according to her judgment but to leave it long as possible. In the course of their trimming, bit by bit I usually lose a good 3-4 inches each time this happens.
This time, yesterday, I tell the person I’m growing my hair out, so just to trim it according to her judgment but to leave it long as possible. So she immediately takes up a huge chunk of my hair and combs it all straight up over my head, and without a hesitation lops off about 5 inches with one snip.
Last night I had a dream that I met a fantastic hair cutter. She immediately parted my hair to the correct side (no one ever does. my hair doesn’t like a part, but there is a right side if it’s going to be done) and even made it properly uneven. Alas I had recently had my hair dramatically but reasonably cut, so I did not have my hair recut by this wonderful hair cutter lady, but I made note of her name (forgotten) and would definitely have gone to her next time. She was blond. She looked nice. She was nice. The lady who cut my hair yesterday tugged my hair and rushed through and upset me a bit — apparently enough to give me dreams of ideal hair cutters.