Shaven and shorn
So I got a haircut. (Astute readers will remember that this was on my “absolutely must do” list from my last blog entry.) And it’s really short. I mean really short. I don’t know that it’s been this short since I was 18 months old and just had baby hair. (I was practically bald for the first two years of my life, and then I had hair almost to my waist from the time I was 14 until a couple of years ago. Maybe this counts as a second childhood.)
Anyway, I discovered late last semester that it gets pretty cold in Illinois. And I also discovered that walking to school with wet hair makes you even colder (and it makes your hair dry oddly if you stick it under a hat). Add to this that I have trouble getting up early enough to shower, wash and dry my hair (the latter can take up to half an hour) and you’ll see why I decided that I needed my hair to be much, much shorter.
My grandma came over today and just about died when she saw how short it was. She went back and forth between telling me that she was going to cry that I’d cut all my curls off and saying that it actually looked pretty cute. It’s barely long enough to go behind my ears on the sides, but very short in the back and sort of bangs-y in the front without losing its wash-and-go quality. I’m pretty happy with it, although I’ll probably cry when I see it tomorrow; it always takes me a few days to get used to a new haircut.
This is what my hair looks like:
It’s the same cut as the girl on the right. (Not the llama.)