Ever since my last haircut in early December, my ‘do has been bothering me. Lately though, it’s been getting to me so badly that I’ve been wearing it up or partially up every day. The problem is that the stylist (and I use that term loosely) cut the layers WAY too short, leaving me looking like I was trying to enter a “Friends Characters from 1994 ” contest. Jennifer Anniston called this morning to tell me that check out time to get over that hairstyle was, like, 10 years ago. These realizations, coupled with a big sleep deficit, led me to a final act of desperation. As soon as Josh pulled the car into the garage this evening, I was out the door. “I’m going to get a haircut – the baby is asleep” I called over my shoulder as I left him in a swirl of dust.

Without looking back (at least I’m not a pillar of salt right now, so I’ve got that going for me, which is nice…) I stormed in to Great Clips and told them to sharpen the shears. This stylist (no apparent relation to the stylist described above) asked me 18-ways-to-Sunday if I was sure I wanted the layers cut out. I was firm. I wanted them out. “Cut it to one length!” I cried with abandon, “Just do it!”

I started to have second thoughts as the first 5 inch section dropped off the side of my head. But that was past the point of no return so I didn’t say anything as the pit of my stomach dropped. Wow. She was cutting it a lot lot lot shorter than I was thinking. I started to have flashbacks to 9 years ago when I last had a really short haircut. I was a senior in high school and it was right before prom and it was really the worst look ever. Ever. Ever ever ever.

“Well, it’s really different!” the stylist chirped as she held the mirror up so I could see the back.

“Heh heh,” I forced a laugh, “My husband is going to flip out.”

I called Josh on the way home. “Will you still love me if I’m practically bald but in a triangle-head way?” He was nervous, but assured me of his undying affection. He and Hannah met me at the door, like pokey motorists eager to gawk at crash damage. Hannah cocked her head as if to say, “Hey, what did you do with my Mommy?” Josh claimed it was not that bad and reminded me that it will grow back.

I am a dejected triangle-head. The situation is made all the worse by the fact that tomorrow we are scheduled to get our first family picture at Olan Mills (for free with a coupon from the hospital, so no great loss I suppose). Sigh. I will let my dear readers survey the scene for themselves in the snapshot below. I am resigned to this test of my vanity, and remember that my Dad made me learn Proverbs 31:30 when I was 6 years old for just this type of situation.

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