hot mess.

ok. so, i love getting my haircut. i get my haircut at bijin in prairie village. it is my single-most favorite place in kansas city. it has it's own distinct fragrance line, and slippers, and robes, and quiet music. and did i mention a glass of wine while i wait? it's glorious.

jenni has cut my hair since i moved here. she's cute and sweet and cuts only curly hair. i never have any fears when i go see jenni. her hair-cuts cost more than a pair of shoes, but i can't bring myself to go anywhere else. one wrong snip, and i look like weird al. (and i only get three haircuts a year, so i think it kind of evens out with the rest of the female population?)

first, picture this: yesterday. haircut time. i decided to go straight from the gym to the salon. sweaty, gross, no make-up, red-faced, and in black stretchy pants and a sports bra.

now, jenni has an assistant. her assistant is always changing, it's usually someone who is starting out at the salon. said person is responsible for washing my hair, getting me a smock, taking my purse, getting me a beverage of choice, and giving me a scalp massage.

so as i'm sitting waiting to be taken back to the back- i'm actually getting a bit antsy. mostly because i've been waiting a few minutes, and i'm so sweaty i'm starting to worry that i'm going to leave a mark in the chair when i get up. (gross, i know.)

and i hear, "megan? for jenni?" and i look, and THIS is calling my name.i'm not kidding. i mean, he had a shirt on. but this is what this kid looked like. exactly. and i was mortified.

i don't have anything else to say, but that. MORTIFIED.