Tuesday

073

May 6, 2008 :: "it"

I've had it. The frizzy unruliness. The christmas-tree shape. The raging, schizophrenic, matted cacophony of homeless-chic nesting on the top of my head. Blake meant well when he suggested, months ago, that I might look great with longish hair. I protested. Told him that every attempt I've ever made to pull off rita hayworth locks that tumble down my back and lay luxuriously in rivers of coordinated waves has turned out looking more like the fur of a wet dog with chemical burn. But I love him. So, I also told him that I'd indulge him and try.

It was a valiant attempt, but it has recently become obvious that my hair has won the war.

Today I will be visiting miss Jenny at the Dada salon, very conveniently located across from the Inman Park Marta station. She will be saving me from being further mistaken as some kind of walking shrubbery with a nice, short bob and perhaps some bangs. Bangs! Something I haven't entertained since I was 16 years old and daily armed myself with an extra-hot curling iron and an entire can of Rave hairspray.

But, this is what I do in desperation.

After pics forthcoming, unless I can't stand it and shave it all off, crazy-eyed Brittney style. (Which I've done before, so this should leave you in considerable suspense.)

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