i have been building a case against my hair for months now. in the matters of nat v. nat’s hair, i chose to serve as both the prosecution and the defense. pro-bono, of course!
prosecution: your hair is limp, dull, and lifeless. you are a walking, talking, bad shampoo commercial.
defense: but it has taken years to get it to this length!
prosecution: just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. i mean, are you going to wear uggs with shorts too? you know, just because you can?
defense: i got nothin’. defense rests.
prosecution: you can’t HANDLE the truth!
defense: i SAID defense rests! geez.
wow, that prosecutor is a wanch.
all this back and forth has left me feeling absolutely exhausted…and a little bi-polar.
you see, my hair hasn’t been this long since high school. i’m not sure what made me decide to grow it out in the first place, i think i just noticed that long hair was trending and went with it. here’s the problem…my expectations *might* have been a little high. i envisioned long, flowing, luscious locks.
something akin to this:
what i actually got was this:
note: i took this selfie for the sole purpose of showing my sisters a new shirt that they helped me pick out. i don’t take them just for fun. felt the need to point that out.
no matter how much i curl it, tease it, pray over it, it just falls flat. right along with my ego. i had hoped to hold out and cut it for a special occasion (is that weird?), but after seeing photos from christmas, i felt a renewed sense of urgency. i looked horrible in every. single. picture. even in the photos we had taken for cards! by the way, this is why you never got a christmas card from us. i vetoed them faster than B could say ‘sweet Potato FRIIIIES.’ i just looked sad. and tired. and old. that last one is the kicker. sad- eh, whatever. old- unacceptable.
this realization forced me into a desperate mental state. it simply had to be done. like, right away. and i knew if i didn’t do something and do it soon, i was likely to go all crazy on myself and pull a britney spears.
before irreparable damage could be done, i regained my sensibilities and started researching. i even looked through old photos to see if a past hairstyle might be worth revisiting. the answer was unequivocally NO. just say no to bangs, kids.
what i really wanted to do to my hair is this:
but in a color like this:
the haircut alone is trés chic, right? but the cut and the color combined might be a little too edgy. and my job requires that i wear suits and sell things to people waaaaay smarter than me. i already have a hard time being taken seriously. besides, do you know what i will want next? a nose ring. i have wanted one for years. i can see it now…this hairstyle could easily take me from looking like a qualified sales professional to the lead singer of a rock band in one hot minute. i know what i am capable of, people.
what i finally decided on was this:
good middle ground, i think. it’s a drastic cut but not too short.
whew, B is relieved. my head barely escaped the shears this time around. i haven’t figured out how to style it just yet. i tried to curl it with the flat iron today, but that’s hard, y’all! it’s going to take some practice.
so now that i have jillian’s hair, where can i go to get her arms? oh, the gym you say? that’s not nearly as easy as going to the hairdresser. *humph.* i’ll think about it.
happiness is…a new look.
PS. it seems a ridiculous amount of obsessing over a haircut, doesn’t it? i tried not to, but i am who i am…always and forever the
crazy happy redhead.