A Star on the Wrapper

I'm not a risk taker. Well, when it comes to my hair I'm not a risk taker. Never will you ever see me putting neon colors in my hair (even if it's temporary) or going all Britney Spears or Miley Cyrus on it. Nope. Can't do it. I don't have the guts to do such things to my beautiful hair. Yes, I just called my own hair beautiful. The hairdresser said it herself first though. She said I have beautiful, thick hair. She also said I had enough hair for five people. It makes drying and straightening it quite tedious. Anyway, I was asked if I wanted a trim or a cut. I said a trim. Sounded the safest. I was asked if I wanted to keep the layers and have it thinned out. Yes and yes. Then the whole process started.

I've posted before about how much I hate getting my hair cut. It's just not a fun time. First comes the hair washing. There's something about someone massaging my head and ugh, everyone says it feels so good. I just feel all awkward. Then the actual cutting starts. Something different happened this time though. As I'm sitting there staring at myself in the mirror noting how unflattering the cape was on me (really, nobody can make that look good, I don't care who you are), a lady walks in with two puppies. They were the cutest little things I ever did see! So adorable. They were little, fluffy, white fur balls. They were eight weeks old! The lady who had them asked if I'd like to hold one. Well, duh! So I sat there holding a puppy as my hair got cut. The hairdresser just smiled and talked to my mom, who was also there getting her hair cut. I seriously just sat there stroking the puppy and picking off any hair that fell on it. The sweet thing just fell asleep. I was off in La-La-Land totally disregarding my surroundings and, before I knew it, my hair was done! I think someone should bring a puppy in every time I get my hair cut. I'll be honest though and say you can't really see a difference from before my hair got cut and after it got cut. I kind of like it that way. Nothing to risky!

Told you. It's okay, you can laugh. The only real difference is that there are more layers, its more flippy at the bottom because of where it hits my shoulders when I sit up straight, and it's a bit softer and healthier now that the split ends are gone. I forgot to ask to have my bangs cut. I'll just keep pinning them back until I can go have them cut. I still can't get over how cute those puppies were though. I wish I had a picture of that!

P.S. I ate a Tootsie Pop while doing my homework today. I was chatting with Amanda at the same time. She told me that if there was a star on my wrapper, I could win a free lollipop. There was a star on my wrapper! I then started going through all the Tootsie Pops in the halloween bowl and unwrapping them. I did get a look from Papa while doing this but, hey, free lollipop? That's worth it. Every one of them had a star on the wrapper. Sketchy. I decided to Google this madness. Turns out it's just a rumor. So there I sat...disappointed and with nine unwrapped lollipops.

Snip, Snip, CHOP!

You know that feeling you get when you're waiting in a doctor's office? How the minutes feel like hours and the panic slowly increases? And how, for some odd reason, the fluttering butterflies in your stomach feel the need to turn into hopping frogs? Well, I get this feeling. Only I get this feeling while I'm waiting for my turn in hair salons.

I love my thick, unruly, sometimes wavy, sometimes curly, all the time frizzy hair. It may have taken me years to figure out how to manage it but I can now...and I like it. When a hairdresser, who has never even met my hair before, calls me over to sit in "the" chair, I panic. What if she cuts it too short? What if she doesn't follow the picture I give her? What if she has her own idea of what to do with my hair?

Yes, I worry way too much but I am the one that will have to live with the end result. Today, I heard the hairdresser say, "It's just hair. It will grow back eventually." Holy moly, I don't like the way she thinks. I let her cut my hair anyway. I showed her a picture of how I wanted it done and she agreed that the style would suit me well.

I sat there watching the hair fall down in front of my face. I watched as it fell unto the "cape" and slid down to the floor. Little pieces in little chunks. Then...BAM! A good four inch piece just fell from the front of my head. Ohhhh nooo. I'm sure my eyes were huge at this point because the lady says, "It's okay!! I just needed to cut more for your bangs. It's okay." Talk about heart attack. I didn't like that feeling one bit.

She finally finished cutting my hair and she asked if I wanted it straightened. Of course I want it straightened. I don't want to go outside looking like an angry bird. It took a while but, once it was all straightened, I got to spin around with a mirror and look at it. It's so short! Or at least it's a lot shorter than I'm used to, but I love it! The lady also thinned it out so it's more manageable. I guess I should just trust her next time and save myself from the panic.