What is it about hair stylists that they hate long hair?

I will admit to one vanity.  The only really good feature that I think I have is my hair.  It’s auburn and wavy and long.   It had finally reached my waist and was full and thick, and I am proud to say, was a completely natural color.  Until the year of Katrina, I was fairly religious about keeping the ends trimmed so that it didn’t take on that unkempt kind of look that long hair often gets.

Let me stop for a moment here and make a point:

It. USED. To. Reach. To. My. Waist.

When I lived in New Orleans, I always spent a ridiculous amount of money every three months to have a trim.  It was the one beauty item I did not skimp on.  Only the best salons.  Only the best stylists in those salons.  I would be almost embarrassed to tell you what I spent on a cut.  I rationalized it by the fact that I only went in every three months – you can get away with that when you have long hair.  I also spent a completely ridiculous amount on leave-in-conditioners and shine solutions to keep it from tangling and breaking. 

This year has engendered a certain degree of neglect on the hair front.  We have moved A LOT.  Plus, we are now on a single income, and I can not bring myself to justify the kind of money I was used to dropping on a cut.  And, I have NO knowledge of the Little Rock Salon scene. 

So here is where I made my fatal mistake.

I went to Regis to have my hair cut. 

I can hear my more fashion conscious friends groaning now.  Now, in my defense, I was not expecting miracles, here, but I was not expecting a complete HACK job either.

A trim for me is about three inches.  About a palm width.  That’s what it takes to take off the damage – long hair is old hair, by the time the ends reach those kinds of lengths they are three years old at least.  Apparently, the stylist I got has some very serious depth perception issues. 

The final toll – AT LEAST six inches gone.  I am thinking probably more like eight.  EIGHT.  That waist-length hair?  Barely hits the bottom of my shoulder blades.  Oh, but at least it’s not even because she didn’t undercut it to account for the curl in my hair.  So, it’s eight inches shorter and jagged.

Would it be reasonable to sit down in the middle of my office and cry?