I know you guys (all two of you) have been wanting to see pictures of the haircut, but I have a really gross pimple on my chin right now, and so I refuse to take a picture. But you can get a pretty good idea of what it looks like through this recent exchange with my mom:
Me: Hi Mom! We came to visit, because the kids missed their grandma! How's it going?
Mom: Oh Renee, what happened to your hair?
This was AFTER I went and got it fixed.
This is not the first time I wrote about a self-inflicted hair massacre on my blog. So why do I do it to myself? Why must I insist on picking up scissors and cutting hair like I have any idea what I'm doing?
BECAUSE THIS USED TO WORK FOR ME, I SWEAR!!!! I gave myself haircuts in college all the time. Sure, I wasn't like, turning heads with my skillz or anything, but I promise you, I used to be able to cut my hair pretty decently at one point in my life. I had mastered the bob, and even kind of knew how to layer it. Vidal Sassoon would have been like, "Ees not too great, but ees asseptable eef jou donet care eff jou look like a escape mental pashien, but a escape mental pashien weeth STYLE, jou know?" I don't know if Vidal Sassoon speak French with a bad accent, but in my blog, he does.
I'm thinking maybe going blind girls should just say no to scissors? I don't know. Maybe I'll give it another go in six weeks. If this pimple on my chin goes away, I promise pictures, and then you can make the call.