I see the merit in these points. I do. But today in Boston, it's a humid 96 degrees. And my hair--already thick when not preggers--looks and feels like a giant, fuzzy mushroom on my head. It's not especially long--falling just above my shoulders--but there's just so MUCH of it. So I'm ready to pull the trigger, rational arguments be damned. Crazy? Maybe. Cooler? Definitely.
I casually mentioned the word "haircut" to my husband a couple nights ago, and saw the crestfallen look on his face. What is it with guys and hair? Can he really like the frizzy helmet I'm sporting right now? Where I see mushroom, does Nick see girlish charm? Or maybe he thinks short hair is just one step away from mom jeans and clumpy clogs.
Maybe I'm a little worried about that myself.
Whatever it is, I knew I needed some visual aids to help us both feel better about my decision. And so I prepared my presentation and last night over dinner, displayed before Nick several pictures of hot, young actresses with cute, short hairstyles. As he visibly relaxed, I called the salon and booked a 12:30 appointment for today.
And away I go...
Ahhh, that feels better. Oh, hello, neck. It's so nice to see you.
So I did it, and let me tell you, watching all that hair fall to the floor of the salon was very, very gratifying. And while I might not look like the next hot young thang in Hollywood, I do feel like a new woman. In fact, I might need to go out and get some new shoes to go with my new hair.
Anyone know where I can get some good clogs?