Written by Amelia
My hair has been driving me crazy. Last week, I got so mad at it that I “punished” it by putting it in a bun for five consecutive days. Not a new bun each day, but one bun. For five days.
My hair remained in its time-out while I slept, showered, and even when I went out in public. My most sincere apologies to anyone who had to endure my appearance. Over the weekend, toward the end of the bunstrocity, I was at my cousin’s outdoor birthday party where I believe a wasp mistook my hair for its nest. It was that bad.
So I made a hair appointment and had it all cut off. Don’t worry, I took before and after photos.
I call the first one “Hair Despair”, the second “I’m Getting My Hair Cut Today!”, and the third “Hair Rage.”
The first photo is what my youngest sister came up with when I asked her to take a picture of my hair. Like, seriously? She got the hang of it, though.
I feel about ten pounds lighter, five degrees cooler, and seven times less likely to wage an all-out war with my hair anytime soon. Sometimes you just need to chop off all the dead weight dragging you down.
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