I did not have bangs this morning when I
woke up. I did not visit a salon between
getting up and now. Yes, it's true. I have
once again started hacking off my own hair.
Come October it will be one year since my
last professional haircut. I avoid going
because it doesn't look horrible, and I have
no idea what I want done with it. Oh, and
Recently I took some time to flip through a few of those hairstyle magazines. I found nothing, nothing, nothing, that I liked. I didn't even swoon over any of the styles that would be impossible for me to pull off. Because really, if you can't fall madly in love with a hairstyle that requires genetic engineering to change the thickness and texture of your hair, what can you fall in love with?
I'd been toying with the idea of bangs for at least a few weeks. Then last night I had a dream that I'd already cut them. And, hey! If that isn't a hormonally induced incentive to get snippin' then I don't know what is.
Monkey Man is going to roll his eyes so hard you'll probably be able to hear it in China.
Btw, Quake, having slept with us last night, rolled over this morning and asked, "Can I go to school today?"