My hair continues to be a source of humor and vexation to me. I gave myself an Epic Fail haircut last year at about this time. It was seriously about the worst I’ve ever looked.
Since then, I’ve showed considerable, chastened restraint in keeping my hands off the scissors and the scissors away from my hair. Aside from de-mulletizing it before the wedding, I haven’t cut on my hair AT ALL in the past year, nor will I in the upcoming year. If I need my ends evened up, I will let Joel do it. It’s kind of a pact at this point.
It’s almost but not quite long enough for a ridiculous little chicken-butt ponytail, and in the meantime I have been keeping it shoved back out of my face with a wide plastic headband.
Today, my hair performed a particularly bizarre feat that I only became aware of due to having caught a glimpse of my shadow.
I was riding to downtown KCMO to check out the new grocery (it’s not open yet; supposedly it will be tomorrow). As I was riding along Woodswether through the bottoms, I caught sight of my shadow, and saw that something was sticking out pretty much perpendicular to my neck. Thinking that I’d klutzed out and somehow got a spare glove or similar stuck down the back of my jacket collar, I grabbed the protuberance and tugged.
It was my hair.
My hair, which is thick, straight, a little coarse, and good at getting really big and sticking all out, had flopped over the top of my earband and was then squashed down by my bike helmet. The squashed-down hair met the top of my jacket collar and had nowhere to go but out. I will have to try to get a picture of this before I go out again tomorrow, because I can tell that my written description is doing nothing like justice to the freakshow that is my hair.
Be warned: a photo is forthcoming because I basically have no shame where my awful hair is concerned!