Haircut
In the vein of trying to get things sorted out before I leave for the meeting, I finally got around to getting a haircut. Probably about time, because it’s been . . . um, a really long time. I know I haven’t had a haircut since I moved into my flat, and that was just over four years ago. Consequently, the split ends and such meant that quite a bit needed to be chopped off:
The left image is, obviously, the before shot. Cheeks are pink because it was bloody hot, and though the car windows were down, I was at a stoplight and there was no breeze worthy of the name, and when it’s warm I tend to turn crayon-type pink.
Still getting used to the new length. What perplexes me, though, is the fact that hairstylists always twirl my hair around to form ringlets. Do I look like the type of person who should be wearing ringlets? Who am I, Shirley Temple? (At least she didn’t put seven types of styling gunk in my hair.)
