A lot of you have already seen my short haircut on Facebook, but I wanted to post it on here, too, for those of you who aren’t regular FB users:
This photo was taken after a very long session of meticulous cutting, razoring, blow-drying, straightening, and setting. In other words, if it weren’t for my amazing hairdresser, my hair would not have turned out this well. Why? Because I have bad hair. Trust me when I say my hair is NOT meant to be short.
Still don’t believe me? Below is a photo of me au naturel when I woke up this morning:
Yah…so you all get the Sideshow Bob reference now? If it were October, I could pretend that Halloween was my favorite holiday and dress up as Bob every single day. Or even better, I could get some small eggs and be a tree with a large bird nest at the top. Pretty sure the eggs would stay put all night.
I applied about half a bottle of men’s hair gel because I thought the hold might be stronger, but it was absolutely terrible. Literally, the worst hair product I’ve ever used. First, strong hold “flexible control” is a bunch of bull; even with a headband, the volume kept rising like a soufflé on steroids and the strands kept popping out–boing!–like that gopher arcade game. Unfortunately, unlike in the game, I can’t exactly bash my head with a giant mallet, especially since slices of my brain are already all over the country, including the brain storage facility at Roosevelt Hospital. [Okay, it’s probably just a regular lab, but I imagine a giant room full of metal drawers that looks like a morgue, but instead of dead bodies, there are neatly filed blocks of brain stored in each compartment. When I call the lab to request more brain–which I’ve done about five times–the technician goes to the A’s and finds my tissue (which is stored in some jello-like substance) and cuts off a piece to be stained and sent to hospital X, which indubitably returns one more non-diagnostic analysis. Too much imagery? I hope no one’s currently suffering from tricuspid-valve regurgitation.]
Second, when I looked at the dried product up close, it looked as though I had dyed my hair salt-and-pepper because there were THAT many gel flakes. Seriously this stuff should be used for a shampoo commercial’s “before” photo of someone with dandruff/psoriasis/leprosy where the “after” shot of the model (my sister, Stephanie, obviously) showed the amazing results after only one use! [But I just learned that psoriasis and leprosy rarely coexist, so the commercial ought to be for one or the other. Fun fact of the night.]
Anyway, the point is I had my hair cut, which is a fine but very important distinction between “I cut my hair.” [My hairdresser asked me if I intended to “touch up” parts of it on my own. (She knows how I like to give myself impromptu, super-stylish trims that always turn out looking fab.)] If by some miracle my hair doesn’t fall out–which from what I understand is not a possibility, but hey, I have a special body–I’m gonna be knitting A LOT of hats.
Will post again tomorrow because I didn’t even mention what’s changed with my treatments and the timeline. (Are you in suspense?) The hair simply had to take precedence.