Did I tell you I tried to cut my own hair? Well, I did, and as it turns out, it’s not such a good idea.
Why did I think cutting my hair would be a good idea?
That’s what everyone from sister, mother, husband, and hairdresser I saw, to correct said mistake, wanted to know. The hairdresser wanted to know if I had at least consulted YouTube. I did not.
No, it wasn’t that premeditated. I was just fed up with my hair and thought, if I could just take a little off the side (layers), maybe it wouldn’t be so fluffy, and then maybe it wouldn’t look like I was wearing a wig, and then, maybe I would be happy.
None of these things happened.
If you’re wondering how I got to this point, well, remember the short hair cut that started out decent, but then looked like I had wings? That haircut was growing out. I would have let it grow out a little more, but my hair dresser was leaving for her yearly, one month long, trip to Greece, so I paid her a visit before she left so I wouldn’t get stuck mid-month with dark roots and wild hair.
At some point during that visit, I decided bangs would be a good idea. They weren’t. I also decided to forgo the low lights this time around, too. Really, it was just one mistake after another.
What I was left with was an over styled, flipped under, grossly highlighted, wig, except it was my real hair. All that was left for me to do was throw on some mom jeans and call it a day.
I tried to live with it for a week, patting it down, pinning it back, but nothing helped. So, last Friday night, in what can only be called a severe lapse of judgement brought on by the mounting stress of moving with no where to go, and almost losing my kids in the grocery store, I started cutting.
As it turns out, the only thing I could do was cut, what looked like, a big hole in the side of my head. So, the next morning, I did the only irrational thing I could, I walked into an unknown salon, told them I had tried to cut my own hair, and took the next person available. This is what my hair looks like now.