Some people have bad hair days. I have a bad hair life. My mother thought my straight hair needed to be permed, so I had several perms before she gave up and made sure I got pixie cuts for years. When I chose to get a permanent as an adult, Mom said, “You know, I think I prefer your hair straight.” Haircuts are always fraught with peril for me. Here’s the usual progression:
When the stylist hands me the mirror: Looks good.
When I look at my reflection in a window after leaving the shop: WHY didn’t I make them quit while I was ahead? It’s SO SHORT!!!
After I wash my hair for the first time after the cut: OMG, it’s sticking out all over! It’s too damn short!!!
A week after the cut: It’s still too short! Grow, grow, grow!
Three weeks after the cut: It’s beginning to grow on me at last.
Four to six weeks after the cut: Finally it’s behaving! Life is good.
Seven weeks after the cut: It’s too damn long! The bangs are getting into my eyes. Time for another haircut!
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