This post is not child-friendly. You are warned.
I f@#*ing hate my hair. I do. I hate it. And that is not a great situation to be in, People. I want to be the like the girls on America’s Next Top Model who have their hair all-but scalped and then say to the camera (after hysterics have stopped), “I’m going to rock this look!” And then they totally rock it. Except… I can’t rock this look. My mind is not in the right place to rock it. It’s just NOT me right now. I thought the short hair longings were trying to tell me that it was time for this type of change. What I should have done was tell the longings to shut the hell up. Not since the chop of 1998 have I been this unhappy with my hair. I don’t even know where to begin, except to keep doing nothing to it – so it grows out. And take Biotin supplements.
I suppose on the plus side, the stylist was able to come so close to my natural color that (for now) I cannot even see a dye line. I have about 1” of growth since the big chop and I cannot find it. That is a good thing. That is a good thing. (Sorry, I was chanting to myself.)
This past weekend we had a fundraising benefit for a coworker. Whatever I did differently to my hair that night, worked. For the FIRST TIME, I felt like it might look kind of cute. But I can tell you that I haven’t been able to duplicate that since. Damn it!
This is harshing on me something fierce. I’m not afraid to confess that hair has great power over my confidence level. Daytime nookie is paying the toll for this haircut and that is pissing me off, too. I want to whip my hair and I don’t have any!
And so, my friends, this is why you won’t be seeing many photos of my head for the next few months. I am in hiding.
In hiding and praying I can get to this by July:
Images are Pinned for sources.