Gettin' My Hairs Did

I think I've written about my dislike for getting my hair cut before. I searched, in vain, for that post, but I've written 320 posts....the chances of finding it aren't that good. Unless, of course, I put tags on my posts or titled them with obvious titles. Those are super ideas, but, well, I'm a little unorthodox. Besides, I generally title my posts something or other and then blabber on about other things not at all related to the title of the post. If I could stand the phrase "that's how I roll" I'd type that here, because that is how I roll. However, "that's how I roll" has made its way onto my no-no list. It's right up there with "date night." Immediately after I wrote about my distaste for the term "date night" last week, three blogs I read mentioned "date night." Seriously, I kid you not. Like right after I hit the publish button, I read "date night" three times on three different blogs.

Anyway, I don't like getting my hair done. I'm not crazy about sitting in front of a mirror watching a stranger hold the fate of my hair in her hands. I worry about the pre-cut conference where I tell the hairdresser what I want. I worry that I won't fully describe my hair related wants and desires in a way that she'll understand. I hate when they ask what shampoo I use because I know they won't like my answer. I don't use salon quality stuff, I use whatever is on sale with a coupon. I fear that they'll tsk tsk me when I answer with the name of some random drug store brand of shampoo and then bully me into buying their hoity toity shampoo.

It's been way too long since my last foray into the hair salon. My hair was heavy, shaggy, too long and in desperate need of some attention. Today was the day. I sent Caroline off to the neighbor's house to play and off I went. The stylist and I had a good conversation and I'm happy to report that I actually like my hair cut. Score!

And, of course, because I'm ridiculously shameless, I hosted an impromptu post-hair cut photo shoot in my bathroom. Before you take a look at my crazy pictures, I should add that it is WINDY outside, so my nicely styled hair did take a bit of a hit as soon as I stepped foot out of the salon. And also, there are a few pictures in which some fuzzy spots on the mirror are blatantly obvious. I'll try to ignore them as long as you promise to do the same. Deal?

Ah, the spots! Sorry, I tried, but I simply cannot ignore them.

As if I haven't embarrassed myself enough, I'll end this with a completely unrelated, yet entirely relevant, picture.

That's how I roll.
True. So very true.