Chopped

I cut off all my hair just before the big move to Chicago. Brent had mentioned he really liked it short and I wanted to surprise him. Oi. I think I should have waited a bit longer for the idea to sink in because as soon as it was gone I regretted it. My stylist flat-ironed it and did a precision cut and then put in some layers. Then more layers and more layers. There's 3 inches of difference between the shortest and longest layers. I like layers but with lots of them it starts to look shredded as it grows out. When I get a haircut I want it to last a while! I don't want to have to go in again in 6 weeks because it looks like I haven't had a cut in 6 months. And yes, I spoke up before she put in yet MORE layers. She unsuccessfully tried to convince me it would be too thick and weighty. I did not cry though. I refuse to cry about my hair unless I'm losing it all due to chemotherapy. Hair grows back and in my case it grows quickly.

I'd told the stylist I wanted to play up the curls that resulted from my last pregnancy. I wanted to look like classic Hollywood. Growing up I had stick straight hair and always envied girls with curly hair. They looked romantic and could run their fingers through wet hair and go. I had to DO something or I looked haggard. They of course hated their curls. Thanks to Ireland, I now have curls and I just love them. Cutting off all the length really let them spring up. I've barely thought about my haircut since it happened (as evidenced by the lateness of this post on the matter) and I'm undecided on whether to grow it out again or keep it short for a while. Hmmmm, decisions for another day. In the meantime, here's a pic Brent took of me on my blackberry.