Last year, a pair of inseparable twin sisters were torn apart by stress and their differences in the relatively smooth first year of university.
Over the break, Emily and Sarah Roses were able to reconnect and mend their friendship.
When a familia...
This is the story of how a girl named Emily Roses paid a couple hundred dollars to have her confidence absolutely torn to shreds.
Or maybe not. I don't know, but it sucked a LOT.
Sarah would say I was being incredibly dramatic, but that was so extremely insensitive to the long, shiny, healthy hair I spent so much time and money perfecting. I just couldn't understand how my own sister could be so calm when the situation was this catastrophic.
To start from the beginning, it was important to know that over the summer, I was unable to get my hair length maintained or get the pink dye touched up due to the world-wide pandemic shutting down every non-essential public service.
This resulted in my fast-growing hair becoming so long that it was always in my way, whether it was just stuck in a car door, getting caught in people's jewelry when they'd go in for hugs, or just being generally tangly and annoying. Not to mentioned, several butts kept sitting on it when they sat beside me, so my hair was tainted by Calvin, Sarah, Quinn, and random people on public transportation.
It was time to get it professionally dealt with, and cut to a length that was more manageable. I needed to look fabulous for my upcoming classes. I wanted to walk around confidently, see my boyfriend, and look like my old self again.
I missed my bangs and pink hair, I didn't feel like myself without it. I could usually maintain the color myself with pink color-depositing conditioner, but I didn't want to waste product on hair I was going to cut.
So, when I got to my appointment, I confirmed with my new local stylist, "We're just doing a trim and re-color, right?"
"Yes!" She confirmed.
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Her hair was purple and halfway down her back, nicely styled.
If there was one good thing I learned from my mom, it was that a hairstylist with good hair was always trustworthy. If they could maintain their hair in such a caring and beautiful way, I could trust them to do the same.
BUT that lesson proved false, and the results were DEVASTATING.
My thick, long, wavy hair was chopped just above the shoulders and drastically thinned out to the most weak, paper-weight, see-through layers, layering up to where my bangs were cut. The color was not a light blush pink like I usually had, but a sickeningly eye-burning bright flamingo reddish-pink.
I may not have reacted very kindly or maturely when I was turned toward the mirror.
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