Last week, I completely fried part of my hair and I made the decision to pretty much chop it all off. I had been growing out my hair for a year or so, but could never really stop cutting it to go back to a style that I really liked.
Basically, to get rid of all of the completely damaged hair (it was just stretching like elastic and breaking every time I combed it,) I needed to chop off almost everything.
I couldn’t believe the pile of hair that was on the floor after we were done (but I do have really thick hair):
My hair is the shortest it has ever been, and I love it. It is so much quicker to get ready in the morning, since I work at 6 am, and have to leave by 5:30 since I work in a town about 20 minutes from where I live. People say it is liberating to go so short, and it actually kind of is. I don’t have to spend almost half an hour blow drying my hair anymore, and I still haven’t adjusted to needing to use so little shampoo.
While I will probably never bleach my own hair again, I will keep doing my own color, but hopefully never have to cut all my hair off again due to a bad decision on my part. I feel like a completely different person with such a drastic change, but I think it’s awesome and don’t regret my decision in the slightest.
“Due to a dire need to re-gingerfy my apparently mutant roots that grow way too fast, I shall possibly be descending upon CB on Friday. Plan accordingly.”
All I got in return was:
“I have to wooork. :(“
I am going to get this job, move to Omaha, live with my best friend in an awesome apartment in my favorite part of town where we can just walk a few blocks and get amazing sushi, and a few more blocks to get cupcakes. In the kitchen, we will have a cupboard that contains nothing but tea. We may possibly need to have two cats that are named Hercules and Meg, but only if Hercules is a ginger cat.
I’ll start with the job first, though.