I don't know about other people, but my hair has been a source of grief and aggravation for me since it got long enough to tangle (about 3 months old in my case). It's always grown like a weed, fast and wild. My mother, who has very different hair, always struggled with the unruly mop. Everyone kept telling her how beautiful it was - and it was - long, golden blonde curls - so she didn't cut it. I was very tender headed, so that made matters that much worse. I made it to about three before she gave up. The solution, of course, was to give me the dreaded Dorothy Hamill bob that was so popular at the time.
That took care of it for a while. Around puberty, the hair situation got worse because it started getting even curlier. Super curly. Frizzy. Like I didn't have enough problems at this point. Neither my mother or I had any clue what to do with it. We were ignorant of the fancy hair serums and treatments. Back before the heyday of mousse and gel, if it wasn't Aquanet, you didn't use it. So it ran free (read: amok) until I was about fifteen.
That's around the time I discovered the wonders of leave in conditioner and frizz control gel. I'd finally determined that brushing my hair was not an option and that short, layered hair and bangs would only make my hair 'fro. So I started growing it out. It was good. As long as I kept the ends trimmed, carefully detangled and conditioned like it was going out of style, it was manageable enough.
About six years ago, I had an unfortunate hair straightening incident and chopped it off to chin length. Since that time, I've let it grow out aside from the occasional trimming. Not too long ago, I went in for a trim. It had been a while since I went and it had gotten a little out of control. "Cut off the dead ends," I told her. I held up my fingers to about 3 inches. She nodded and she swung my back to the mirror.
Fifteen minutes later, she swung me back around and I realized I had miscalculated how bad off my hair was. Before, when my hair was wet, it reached to the small of my back. Dry, it kinked up to the low middle of my back. The dead ends translated to about six dry inches. (She probably only cut about 4, but it was wet.) Now... it's a couple inches longer than shoulder length.
Sigh... it will grow back. It won't kill me. I'm sure it looks fine. Its just not what I had anticipated. You'd think the hairdresser was a man the way the three inches I asked for magically doubled. Have you ever left the salon with something different than you anticipated? Please tell me your worst hair horror story so I feel better about my cut. :)