And this, my friends, is why my wife cuts my hair, and has done so all but twice in the last 22 years. She knows what to do.
I always wanted my hair long and never wanted to cut it when I was a kid. My dad would give me sh*t every time it got dangerously into "Beatle" territory and my hand was always forced. During my freshman year in college I finally could let it grow out a bit. When it started to look a bit ratty, I went to get it cut, apparently didn't explain it well and ended up with a really sweet mullet. I mean, it was the late '80s and every other dude had one, but still...
On my 20th birthday, my father told me that if I didn't get my hair cut, I would be disowned. I got an extreme buzz cut that I hated with a passion. I will never forget my dad's words- "Son, you look sharp!" UGH!
A few months later, my parents moved across the country and I was able to let it grow again. When I visited for Xmas, they demanded I get another haircut and commented on how much they hated me looking "like that". (Why were these frumpy people so obsessed with my looks?) My parents told me that they weren't going to give me another penny until I cut it again. I went to this place nearby and explained how I was trying to grow it out, and not to do anything drastic. Guess what... another f***ing '80s minimullet. *barf* That was the last time for years that anyone cut my hair. I'd trim off ends and that was about it. I ended up growing it down to my waist.
My point is this- hairdressers don't read minds and some like to get "creative". If you don't give them a picture, you could be in for serious trouble. It can take a year to undo the damage, so treat all unknown quantitites with extreme suspicion.