Since my wedding, I’ve been talking and talking and talking about chopping my hair, but have always chickened out. I’ve had long hair for as long as I can remember and have become weirdly attached to it. Weirdly because 9 days out of 10, I totally hate it. It’s bulky and my ends are dry and splitting into severe 7-part trees… it almost always ends up on top of my head in a messy bun… it’s a pain in the ass to style.
BUT, I just couldn’t imagine getting rid of it.
Any of it.
Since having Charlotte, I’ve thought about it even more. I needed something to simplify my hair life. In fact, a few months after having her, I had a “wave” put into my hair… which is a less embarrasing term for a perm.
The perm was okay. It did it’s job. For a bit, I could leave the house without drying it all the way and it would look pretty good… until I threw it into a pony tail.
Anyway, this past week, I decided I would never be able to get over the idea unless I actually did it. It was time to get over my fear of having a mom haircut and just do it.
So, 2 hours and 7.5 inches later, I have short hair!
Which on a normal day, looked more like this:
Which on a normal day, looks more like this:
Love it? Hate it?
I still haven’t decided…