Haircuts From Hell: Share Your Worst Hair Experience!

You know that scene in “Jaws” where the three guys get drunk below deck and start comparing scars, trying to one up each other, until Quint totally wins with his chilling account of watching all his friends get eaten by sharks during the sinking of the USS Indianapolis? Get a group of women talking about haircut horror stories, and it is usually a very similar scene. The mood gets very serious and competitive. Someone almost always dramatically lifts the hair above her ear to reveal a burn mark, whispering “curling iron, 1987,” and then one person finally unleashes her story of a haircut so epically bad, so emotionally traumatic, that the group can only shake their heads in reverent silence …

That was my first kiss, French or otherwise. And it was from my 40-year-old hairdresser.

I’ve had my share of bad haircuts in my life. There was the rat tail incident at Super Cuts circa 2002. The time I went to a suburban salon with a French name where all the stylists spoke only Korean and interpreted my request for a “quick trim” as a “dramatic ’70s shag with razored ends and a neck shave.” My trump card is usually the time when I was about 15 and my hairstylist, a surfer dude I had previously assumed was gay, started flirting with me incessantly, telling me I should star in a “lip commercial.” He gave me an OK haircut, sure, but when I went to pay he pulled me in for a hug and then French kissed me. The worst part: that was my first kiss, French or otherwise. And it was from my 40-year-old hairdresser.

I know you guys have got some great haircut horror stories, so let’s hear ‘em. Bad perms, pixie cuts gone awry, iridescent dye jobs: hit me with your best shot.

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