I hate getting my hair cut. So much so that I generally put it off literally for months, agonize over it, and then plan for a couple of weeks to make some time on a day off to get it done.
So I don’t know what got into me today, but I woke up thinking, “I think I’d like my hair to be a little different.” Without any forethought at all, I drove five minutes to the nearest Great Clips, got my hair trimmed to frame my face, and got home in time to buy groceries before a noon lunch date with friends.
Sounds pretty smooth, right? And I liked how I looked when I left Great Clips. I wore it down because I had some good waves going today, and I liked how all the different layers looked around my face.
Put the groceries away, got back into the car, and had a lovely lunch with a couple of old friends. All the time feeling pretty pleased with myself for pulling off a new look so easily. Hah. Because when I got home and looked in a mirror, I realized I had forgotten about…
See, for a good three days or so after I get a hair cut my hair totally freaks out. FRIZZ everywhere.
I left the house at 11:45 with my hair still slightly damp, and under control from the lovely product the stylist had put in it. I came home at 2:00 with hair that looked like someone had gone at it with a hand mixer.
I’m pretty sure that by Monday morning I’ll be able to wear it down again and enjoy the waves and the soft layers framing my face. But for the next couple of days, a ponytail holder and a lot of bobby pins will be my best friends. Ugh.