For my first real activity of the new year, I got a haircut.
And if you know me then you’re probably thinking, “Hey, but you’re super anxious about All Of This Going On, how are you able to go into a hair salon every six weeks or so?” The answer, friend, is “Heavily masked and I can only manage to put up with it every six weeks or so.”
The alternative being shoulder-length hair or worse, this is a risk I take (as carefully as I can manage) to keep from losing my everloving mind. That stretch in 2020 when nobody was doing anything, nothing was open at all, and my hair was constantly in my eyes and on the bottom of the back of my neck? That was not fun at all.
If you don’t know me, you’re probably thinking that I should look into some DIY or other at-home solution. No, that’s not happening. I’m vain and fussy about some things and my hair is one of them. I have A Professional that I work with regularly, they know how to get a result that won’t leave me frustrated after it’s grown out for a couple of weeks, and those kind of working relationships are absolutely golden.
Everything else may be going to hang out with our friend Helena Handbasket, but at least my hair’s out of my eyes and not sticking up in weird directions.
