Short and Sassy

I actually did it. On the drive to SF I’d convinced myself that I could just get it trimmed and could back out of this whole I-think-I’ll-cut-my-hair-short thing, that I think I really maybe just made up as something to talk about and wasn’t ever really thinking I’d have the courage to do. Not that I thought my hair looked so great before. But better the evil you know, right?

Well, I walked into the fancy salon–blatantly cheating on Frances, my stylist of over a decade–and acted all cool like I’d be up for whatever Jeneel thought might look good. And then she started cutting it! Somewhere in between I stifled the urge to scream out that I was only kidding about wanting it short.

At any rate, after she cut it, her lackey came in to blow it dry. (Jeneel owns the place, and I guess when you’re that senior you get underlings to do not only the hair washing, but the blow drying too.) It ended up looking really cute. A sleek little bob. Fetching. Then Jeneel was going to do what I thought were a few long layers, but started hacking away at it–texturizing it. (Btw, I forgot that term and my metrosexual husband prompted me with it.)

So… we moved away from the short haircut that I would have been totally cool with, to the one I have now. Which is kinda messy/stylie and pretty short. Though I am trying to be the person who says, “It’s just hair” and/or the person who thinks the professional stylist knows better than me.

Mark is in LA, so doesn’t even get to see it professionally styled. When I go at it tomorrow I’ll probably weep and glue a hat to my head.

Cute thing–When I got home and nursed Kate, she still reached up and played with my hair!