So, at the beginning of February I went in for “a little trim” to my newly acquired short style and came out…. looking like a boy. It wasn’t my hairdresser’s fault. At some point during our conversation I had explained how I didn’t want to be in every 3 three weeks and so I think she took that to mean that we needed to go shorter. Much shorter. YIKES.
Next thing I know she flips the chair around and I wanted to scream. Thankfully, I’m a very internalize-any-extreme-emotions kind of girl and so I just took a deep breath and reminded myself that, yes, it was still hair. And, though it would take some growing, that I would – in fact – get over it.
Thus, I title last month’s self-portrait “And So It Grows” as I spent the whole month wondering how long it would take before I didn’t mind my hair again (and I still ponder this question every few days, though I hate it much less now than I did four weeks ago). This pose is perhaps one of the most awkward, and not particularly flattering, but – hey – I actually like the way my hair looks in it. Maybe that’s because you can’t really see it?
Live and learn, I suppose. Live and learn.
Have you ever had a haircut that just went horribly totally wrong? Tell me I am not alone in this!