a silly little post about haircuts

Two inches of hair couldn’t possibly weigh that much and yet I felt a world lighter when I had the ends snipped off a few days ago. My mother and I had a conversation about how going to the hairstylist is like going to the dentist. We kind of dread going, but once it’s done, we feel relieved that it’s over with. I am my mother’s daughter.

When I get my hair done, I leave the salon feeling like Jennifer Lopez in a Pantene Pro-V commercial. I’m whipping my bouncy hair to and fro and prolonging that inevitable wash because, let’s face facts…it won’t look like this again (don’t you just hate that?). After that it’s back to hair that’s here, there and everywhere. Kind of like a non-sexy bed-head look. Though I should probably try harder to brush my hair with an actual comb – and not my fingers.

So dirty shampoo-commercial hair, I’ve got you for the rest of this week. Oddly, you make me feel like I could take on the world. Let’s do this.

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