haircut.

I hate getting my hair cut and generally only go about once or twice a year. I hate the awkward conversation, the pressure to buy expensive products and staring at myself in a mirror for 30 minutes.  I was wearing my hair down the other day and almost sat on it...it is so grossly long so off I trotted this afternoon for a simple trim. 

and boy am I glad I did:

hairdresser: (takes one look at my hair) oooo so how long has it been since your last trim?

grace: ooo...well about six months...

hd: oh...ONLY six months?...

 awkward silence. my favorite

hd: and is this Sun-In or a home dye job???

grace: um...no...just...um...no...neither. 

hd: hmmm

more awkward silence as she continues to knit  an XL sweater with her brows and play with my hair

hd:and we're you wanting me to put some layers in to give it some volume or do you like it flat like it is?

grace: um. sure..layers are great

hd: and what should we do with these bangs?

("bangs" being wisps of hair to my shoulder...)

grace: oh...you can just give those a trim maybe?

hd: maybe thicken them up? bring them up to eyeball length?

grace: (!!!!!!!!) oh...um...maybe just around the chin...and keep them thin?

the humble pie serving only got uglier as she claimed my hair was too long to cut while I was sitting and she didn't feel like squatting the whole time so would I mind standing on a step stool in the lobby since the chairs next to me were getting permanents and hair color and the stylists needed all the elbow room they could get....??

sure. 

so...there I stood for twenty looooooong minutes at giraffe's chin height with wet hair covering my face in the salon waiting room while she chopped away. I know it is a bit of a stretch but I felt a little like Hester Prynne with my scarlet letter standing for: appearance neglect. 

I thought the worst was over but luckily for me..the hair color and permanent needed to set so the other two stylists grabbed their hairdryers and helped my dresser dry my hair. The male stylist asked, "ooooh....what happened to your neck?!" pointing to my scar. I got flustered and didn't feel like screaming over the three blow dryers so I just said, "oh...um....oh an accident." To which he gave an understandably befuddled look. 

I would show you a photo of the finished product but this is the spitting image:

I can't complain though...during Christmas break of my last year in college I went to get a haircut. I wanted my hair to emulate that of Sienne Miller's at the time. Funny. My only request was that I could still pull my hair into a ponytail. I came out with hair earmuffs and a (not pictured) small rat tail cascading down my neck and back. 

This is a growing out GOOD photo...

pretty in black, white and no.

So the broom chop has certainly kept me out of the ugliest hair style boat...of my life thus far. But...not too terribly far from it either. 

I know you've been missing those pants alterations and Simon and I have been purging and packing and I found some real diamonds to fix this week. 

Be back tomorrow!