I got a haircut.
Me.
Hairdresser phobic me.
What is it with all those mirrors, anyway?
Why are there so many of the damn things?
While we are on the subject, why do hairdressers ask what type of cut we want? I never went to haircutting school. I don’t know anything about layers or razoring or anything much more than ‘a number two on the sides with a number four on top, ‘cos it’s Winter’.
That is like me asking the hairdresser which optimal position she has decided on for the birth of her first child and had she considered tearing or episiotomy with that.
When it comes to hair I am uneducated.
All I know is that the short cut got tired, I grew it out, to a point where it just looked like someone had popped a mop on my noggin’ and called it a ‘do’.
That and in less than twenty four hours, I am going to be the mother of two twelve year olds and I think that calls for something a bit more grown - uppish than the mess that was my hair.
What do you think?
So, I got it cut, with a side fringe (I’ve never had a side fringe, heck, I’ve never had a fringe, period) and layers.
It’s not in my face.
It looks like someone has actually done something with it, no longer the caveman, lost cause look.
(Now if I could just do something with my bushman eyebrows).
So, here is a picture.
It’s not a great photo because I didn’t want to look like a total git and ask one of the kids to snap off a few for the blog but you can see, it has shape, right, and I look like I could have 12 year olds, yes?
No, don’t look at the dark circles.
Anyway, those are marks of babies and toddlers and maybe teenagers who don’t come home until after midnight. If I had just 12 year olds, my panda eyes would not be so bad.
I’m sure of it.
Don’t look at the stupid grin.
I felt stupid, okay.
I just want your opinion… is it an okay haircut?
