I need a haircut. In my mind, I look like this:
But the mirror shows more like this:
I’ve been thinking (read, moaning and groaning to Husband) I need a haircut for about a month now. I know it’s true, because when I walked into Mother-In-Law’s apartment yesterday afternoon, she asked if Flower Child had done my hair for me.
I like to look presentable but I run into several obstacles. 1) I hate looking in the mirror. Truly, I’d rather have the Evil Queen’s mirror (Snow White) than the bitch harping on me from mine.
2) I don’t enjoy going for haircuts, or anything else that involves strangers touching me. Yes, I’m uptight. Accept it, I have.
3) The ever-looming budget. I can get my hair cut next week, but that means I have to skip Friday Night Madness this week. Not a tragedy or a hardship, but a bummer. Even in my broke and Fringe life, I recognize this as a first world obstacle.
4) I haven’t had a haircut in five years that wasn’t interrupted by the school nurse, calling to tell me Flower Child was sick or seizing or both. I haven’t received a phone call from the nurse yet this year, I’d like to stretch this as long as I can.
I don’t dye my hair, it’s salt and pepper and yes, I like it this way. But thanks for giving your best guesstimate on how much younger I’d look and you’d feel if I dyed it. I spend about two weeks googling hairstyles for gray hair before I go. Why? I see the same three images, regardless of year, season, or current styles.
Ok, I made up the Cruella one, Emmylou Harris is usually the third photo to pop up. Maybe I should go for Cruella this year. It might just satisfy Mirror.