DIY

I have been in need of a haircut, badly. Like, the last time it was cut was August and my hair grows like a weed. It was getting yucky and stringy on the ends and it was way too easy to distinguish the dead and healthy hair. Like, ewww.

I know it's time for a cutting when my hair doesn't come down from a barrette. Poor hair wants to see the light of day, stretch it's roots-and I shut it all up in a bun on the back of my head. Poor, poor hair.
Since I am a curly girl in a straight hair world it has taken me 27 years to find someone I trust with my hair. Most hairdressers see naturally curly hair and immediately want to straighten it, cause that's what they know. The other's just don't seem to know what the hell they are doing and just trim it all willynilly and call it good. I have always wanted a style, a hair identity if you will. I wanted pizazz. I wanted someone to embrace my curly-haired bad ass self, and in turn I too could love my springs.

And then I found her. She rocks my socks, and six months ago when I sat in her chair I felt like I was the Queen in the Curly Girl Palace. She totally got it. She loved my curls, I loved my curls. My world was good. I left her salon with a bag of tricks and the confidence that my hair was just as good a straight haired gals any day. Maybe better.

Then six months passes without a visit to the Curl Goddess and my hair is like, totally ewww. She is booked up 2 months and I can't stand myself for the next 2 minutes. What's a girl to do? Why grab the scissors of course! (Something I promised mother I would never, ever do. Sorry ma. )

So, I get to cutting a few loose ends and while I'm at it I might as well trim up front too....Oh, and right her could use a little snip.....and here........and here too......

This goes on over the course of a few days. Until I end up here,

I am really working the supermodel pout. And it actually looks cute and springy when it' s still a little wet, but once it dries-BOING- I have a poodle on my head.

Aw, well. Not like I leave the house that much. And my hair does grow like a weed. And I did save us about $80 bucks, so I'll just chalk it up to learning experience but leave the next cut to the Goddess. Better make that appointment now.

Oh, but before I go. The DIY fever caught on with Chris (see picture above) and he decided he needed a super sweet mohawk in order to join the punk rock realtor club at work, man. Or, he just ran out of hot water and patience in the shower.

You choose.