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.