Most days, I love my children to pieces. Not yesterday. Yesterday I wanted to wrap them both up and ship them back to the hospital where they came from!!!

Earlier yesterday, after a busy morning at AsianParent.com’s warehouse, I rushed to a local shopping center to buy lunch. I walked past a beauty salon and saw empty chairs. I desperately needed a haircut.

“Hi, how much to cut my hair?” I quickly stepped in and asked.

“Fifteen dollars,” one of the three stylists replied.

Instinctively I thought, so cheap!

Of course, I don’t spend the kind of fortune like John Edwards on hair cuts, but I was concerned about entrusting my precious hair with a $15 cut. I preferred a stylist who wanted to charge me at least $30. I am a strong believer in You Get What You Paid For.

Then, I thought, I have straight hair! How hard can it be to cut 3 or 4 inches off of straight hair.

“Okay, I like to get a haircut.” me.

I even splurged a little, and got my hair shampooed and washed for two dollars more. Sweet!

Then I spent most of my haircut session with my eyes closed. My stylist was stressing me out.

She was a nice woman who appeared to be in her 30’s. Her snips were cautious, much measured, and painfully slow.

Even worse, she constantly turned my chair, moved me up and down in the chair, and hovered herself all around me in clumsy positions.

Occasionally, I took my left arm out of the covering, and looked at my watch. I was supposed to eat lunch. But my stylist was eating up all my lunch time.

My eyes blinked open, when suddenly, I heard her say, “Excuse me!”. She then rushed to put down her scissor and brush in front of my mirror.

One of her fingers was bleeding!! She mumbled about needing a band-aid, and quickly disappeared into the back room, leaving me in my chair looking stunned.

“You get what you paid for!” was blinking in bright neon colors in my head.

A few minutes later, she returned. There was no a band-aid on her finger. Instead, her entire injured finger was wrapped in a large white medical cloth, tied together by strings.

“Hee, hee..the scissor is very sharp.” she said to me apologetically as she leaned over me to pick up her tools.

I was too polite to request another stylist, and decided to just suffer through the rest of my haircut. Plus I felt kind of sorry for her. She was just trying to make a living in a trade that she does not belong.

She was even more careful after that, and I was grateful. I even quit checking my watch to rush her.

Finally, she was done with me.

I handed her $25, and said to her, “I am sorry about your finger.”

She thanked me profusely out the door.

I will never go back there again.

I had to skip lunch, and immediately rushed to my children’s school to pick them up. I got there just in time, and were greeted by my baby’s happy little face.

“Oh, you cut your hair!” baby.

Feeling self-conscious about my hair, I summoned my kind motherly smile, and asked, “What do you think of my new hair?”

My 8-year-old examined me a bit, then blurted out, “You look creepy.”

CREEPY!!! No one has ever used the word “creepy” to describe my hair, not even on Halloween or during my teen years.

Then my 11-year-old appeared before us out of the crowd.

“Hey! What do you think of my new haircut?” I needed a second opinion.

My 11-year-old acknowledged my shorter hair, then declared, “You look weird. ”

Too bad my husband was out of the country on a business trip. I really missed him on a day like yesterday. He has been properly trained to say nice things about my hair.