I couldn’t grow out my hair anymore. After 6 months, I was suddenly done. It might have been impatience with the process, or the heat of summer, or serious doubts about the long-projected end product. Or a combination of all 3. So I got a haircut.
Except as mentioned previously, I don’t have a hair person here. And good hair people are not only hard to come by (and $$$), but once you find a good hair person, you have to build up enough trust for short hair. Because you can’t eff around with short hair. I know. I’ve been there. Once upon a time, I was haircut-scarred for life.
So I sort of cut it myself?
Um… I really have no explanations. The back is perhaps a bit choppy and still not as short as I want. But. Considering how badly it could have ended? I ain’t complainin’.
Ignore that wayward hair.
I feel slightly badass, I admit.