So, the idea was to take a little more off than usual. I wanted all the sad, damaged ends amputated. I knew it would be a fair chunk and that layers would be involved. This, after I had whacked off several inches in April to get rid of the layers. Sigh. Because I like to live on the edge and keep my hairstylist on her toes, I thought I would throw in some bangs for kicks. This, after I spent so much time growing them out.
I'm finding that I grow bored quite easily now and employ inconvenient means to entertain myself.
The end result of the cut, however, was a tad unexpected. My hairstylist didn't do anything wrong. She did what I had suggested. But, this is an example of how terms can be relative, because I left with a Katie Holmes layered bob. There's nothing wrong with that, except it is very Spring '08 and, when I where my Chanel shades, I really look as though I'm attempting her "look" (sans the bad 80-90s fashion she's trying to rock).
For the record, this is the shortest my hair has ever been, excluding the crop top I was born with. I could kind of deal with that, happy to play around with it until it grows into something else. But I live and work by the ocean and am cursed with this sort of indefinable wave to my hair that refuses to stay completely straight or go into a full curl. The sea air tends to make my mane expand, which is so not a beauty bonus. When it poofs and begins its semi-curl, I now take on the appearance of Betty Boop.
This cut probably wasn't one of my better ideas.
When you have a hairstyle like this, every ensemble takes on a costume-y feel. It makes wardrobe choices the more challenging. Since it's so short, ponytails are no longer options. The gym is going to be interesting when the sweatfest begins. It's only hair, I know. It will grow. In the meantime, I'm left to struggle with a round brush to manage hair that's still in shock.
I really should've gotten my passport photos taken last week.