I hate getting my haircut. Hate it. I get nauseated waiting for my appointment, sweaty palms, grumpy, and start picturing all kinds of above-the-shoulder haircuts the stylist might decide to inflict on my head. Maybe it's a control issue, but every time I'm sitting in the cushy salon chairs with wet hair and scissors in my peripheral vision, I want to faint.
Well it's no wonder. I went to get a trim on Saturday (I haven't had a haircut since april 2010...avoidance), and she chopped 5+ inches. Seriously, what is it with people wielding scissors! Split ends, shmit ends, I don't want mom hair!
Don't let the smile fool you. I'm kind of devastated. Here's to waiting another year and five months until my next haircut. Sigh.
Okay, pity party over. We're having some incredible weather in Phoenix right now, with stormy nights and chilly mornings. It feels just like fall in Seattle! Happy it's finally time to pull out my grandpa sweaters, blazers, and boots, make hot chocolate and wear dark nail polish. Happy tuesday friends!