When I leave her salon, sure, my checking account is one-hundred-and-fifty gazillion dollars lighter. But my hair looks like this, all the unruly cowlicks tamed into sleek submission:
However, because I am such a lazy ass and quickly tire of all the work it takes to keep it looking that way, eventually, I just end up doing this:
Seriously, I could have an audience with the Pope or Johnny Depp would have finally returned my phone calls but if I couldn't get in with my genius hairdresser? Meh. Up you go.
So. I am thinking: Why not cut to the chase and just chop it all off again?
My hairdresser thinks I should do this, complete with color. I've given Posh a lot of shit in this blog over the years, but you gotta hand it to the girl, she always has a great cut:
Or even shorter into the ne plus ultra of super short pixie cuts, a la:
Can you imagine how easy this is? Oh, yeah, I forget. I've done this before. It's über easy.
Although, S.B. really likes long hair on me (Ever wonder why all men love long hair? My theory is their Cro Magnon genetics, which run all the way back to the days when they used to PULL us by it.), this is the woman he'd leave me for if she ever returned his calls.
Tell Moi. What should I do:
1. Go shorter, but leave enough length to still pull up and back.
2. Posh it semi-short and blonde-ish.
3. Pixie it!
4. Leave it alone and go spend the money on a new pair of shoes.