My hair, y'all. Out of control. Of course, it doesn't help that my last hair cut was sometime in October of 2012.
Anyway, when you haven't had a hair cut in a year and a half, you kind of need to cut your losses and start over. And, really, after everything this spring, I needed a change.
Here I am a little over twelve inches later:
|OMG, I totally suck at selfies.|
Hair was donated to Locks of Love, as always. I'm so glad there is a nonprofit that can consistently benefit from my general lack of hair maintenance. Now if I could only commit to things like makeup and grownup clothes I could (almost) be presentable...at least until I have to wash the new 'do in a day or two. Then it is back to business as usual. Lord only knows what I'll do when the number of white hairs start outnumbering the brown ones, and I'm forced to start dying it. I'm not sure I can donate hair that has been color treated.
Plus, I will probably also have to commit to going to the barber more than once every year and a half. But I can't think about that right now. My commitment-phobia won't let me.
Speaking of my barber, he doesn't know what to do with me. Mainly, because I keep calling him my "barber". Apparently, women have "stylists" or something ridiculous. No wonder I'm such a mess. I'm 33 and don't even have the terminology straight. What chance does my hair have?!
(Choosing not to think about it.)