Thursday, May 26, 2011

424. I'm Really Good At Everything

So The Husband makes an offhand remark the other day, along the lines of something about my hair.  He basically hints that it may be time for me to get my hair cut, or at the very least, my bangs cut.  Honestly, it's not like he's some sort of hair expert, so I really have no idea why he said that. 
I decide that maybe he is right.  I immediately call my hairdresser, and she tells me she can squeeze me into her schedule in three weeks.

Three weeks?  That is, like, a totally different month on the calendar!  Who knows how long my bangs will be at that point.

But that's okay, because I am good at everything.  I own a pair of scissors and a mirror; how hard can it be.

There.  Much better.  I hear The Husband knocking on the bathroom door.

"MOV?  Did I see you go in there with scissors?  You're not cutting your own bangs, are you?  Don't you remember what happened last time?"  He sounds a little frantic.

I inspect my bangs again, and realize they might need a tad bit of evening out.
Oops.  Damn mirror.  Damn scissors.  Damn hand. 

I work on them some more. 

This is definitely shorter than I initially intended.  Much shorter.  But at least they are straight.

(Oh, I just realized something.  Everyone knows I highlight my hair, and I currently have some serious roots showing.  So, my bangs are not, ahem, quite as blond as I am portraying them to be in the picture.)
My hair appears to be like the test-phase of a Barbie multi-colored wig gone dangerously wrong.  The Husband takes one look at my new "style," and shakes his head. 

"Oh, Sweetie," he murmurs, "not again."

That's okay.  There is one other thing I am really good at besides cutting hair:  buying baseball caps.


  1. And graphics! Don't forget your mad graphic skills!

  2. thank you! we are in the "still learning" phase, so please be patient. :)


  3. You know if you curl your bangs and pouf them up, they look longer. Really!

  4. Le'Ann,

    I have made new best friends with the hair dryer (to dry the bangs downward into submission) and the flattening iron (ditto). I still look like a 1950's retro housewife ad for hairspray (and not in a good way, nor an ironic way).

    On the up side, my collection of attractive baseball caps has grown exponentially and now includes a turquoise one, a brown Grand Canyon one, an orange one, and a white one with a navy blue star on the front. For my patriotic side.



When you write a comment, it makes me feel like I won the lottery or at the very least like I ate an ice-cream sundae. (This has nothing to do with the fact that I did just eat an ice-cream sundae.)