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Against My Better Judgment
Nov. 22nd, 2006 12:07 amSo last year at this time, struggling through the whole new job prospect and Thanksgiving and saying goodbye for the year to the hussies and the disaster that was my bank account, I couldn't afford to get my haircut. (I am one of those ridiculous people who'd rather my bangs grow to my nose than go to SuperCuts if I know I can live without groceries for a week and get my hair cut by my stylist). However, since I needed to eat and buy gas and pay rent and really couldn't see through my bangs (sexy as they are), I purchased a pair of good quality shears.
And in my purse they sat. And sat. And sat. Because in college I used to cut other people's hair for $10 then would go to the Aveda salon for my scalp massage and salon cut and haven't let anyone without a chichi degree cut my hair since my aunt trimmed my bangs everyday for 14 days when I was 8 leaving me looking like Janeane Garafalo in Reality Bites, which even at 8 was a bad look for my apple cheeked moon face.
I even told M. about my plan to cut my own hair and he paled, suggested that being depressed and unstable and then having bad hair was probably not sound thinking.
Eventually, I got paid, forwent groceries and got my hair cut.
And so the shears went into the drawer.
Until tonight. Because M. is unexpectedly at work. Because my stylist will trim my bangs for free, but it's a crap shoot since he's in Studio City and I do this thing during the day where they pay me to work, and remember the whole not being able to see thing. And I've been depressed and unmotivated (and seem to have a touch of food poisoning on top of this), and so I shut myself up in the bathroom and got out the shears.
There are things that worked in my favor for this endeavor - I have a shitload of hair, and it's wavy/curly. It's hard to really fuck it up. My stylist J. will likely be appalled (he finds it adorably quaint that I die my own hair), but it really isn't so bad if you don't look closely. Fortunately, none of you are around to look closely.
The problem is that once you start cutting, it's like grade school. No wonder so many Barbies end up with flapper bobs and mohawks! (My mother knew my tendancies - scissors where kept far away from my dolls. This did not, however, stop me from putting egg beaters in my hair in a stroke of literal interpretation that did not end well for my scalp or tresses). The scissors are so sharp and shiny and they make that happy snip, snip sound and there's all this hair to cut. It's just sitting there limply waiting for those shiny shiny scissors and I may have gone a little nuts. We'll see what happens when I wash it, but for now I can see past my bangs, I don't look like I was cutting gum out of one side, and hopefully the morning will not bring snippy remorse.
I also watched some TV - the first episode of Touching Evil (British version, and reminds me that I saw somewhere that they were actually going to release the American version which I was just starting to really dig when they cancelled it, and I find it ironic that this was on considering we saw Come Early Morning on Sunday and I couldn't figure out why I new the male protaganist until half way through and realized it was Jeffrey Donovan who was Kregan in the American version).
Also watched NCIS because I still have an irrational crush on Mark Harmon from his days on St. Elsewhere and he has aged very well. McGee is cleaning up nicely and I still fail to find Michael Weatherly hot. I know, I know. It's me. I'm deficient. I figured out the killer within the first 12 minutes, but I enjoy this show more often than not although I rarely remember to watch it.
We got basketball instead of Veronica Mars, which is annoying, however, I've now absorbed about as much network television as it's possible for me to absorb while basking in the glow of my trimmed bangs.
And in my purse they sat. And sat. And sat. Because in college I used to cut other people's hair for $10 then would go to the Aveda salon for my scalp massage and salon cut and haven't let anyone without a chichi degree cut my hair since my aunt trimmed my bangs everyday for 14 days when I was 8 leaving me looking like Janeane Garafalo in Reality Bites, which even at 8 was a bad look for my apple cheeked moon face.
I even told M. about my plan to cut my own hair and he paled, suggested that being depressed and unstable and then having bad hair was probably not sound thinking.
Eventually, I got paid, forwent groceries and got my hair cut.
And so the shears went into the drawer.
Until tonight. Because M. is unexpectedly at work. Because my stylist will trim my bangs for free, but it's a crap shoot since he's in Studio City and I do this thing during the day where they pay me to work, and remember the whole not being able to see thing. And I've been depressed and unmotivated (and seem to have a touch of food poisoning on top of this), and so I shut myself up in the bathroom and got out the shears.
There are things that worked in my favor for this endeavor - I have a shitload of hair, and it's wavy/curly. It's hard to really fuck it up. My stylist J. will likely be appalled (he finds it adorably quaint that I die my own hair), but it really isn't so bad if you don't look closely. Fortunately, none of you are around to look closely.
The problem is that once you start cutting, it's like grade school. No wonder so many Barbies end up with flapper bobs and mohawks! (My mother knew my tendancies - scissors where kept far away from my dolls. This did not, however, stop me from putting egg beaters in my hair in a stroke of literal interpretation that did not end well for my scalp or tresses). The scissors are so sharp and shiny and they make that happy snip, snip sound and there's all this hair to cut. It's just sitting there limply waiting for those shiny shiny scissors and I may have gone a little nuts. We'll see what happens when I wash it, but for now I can see past my bangs, I don't look like I was cutting gum out of one side, and hopefully the morning will not bring snippy remorse.
I also watched some TV - the first episode of Touching Evil (British version, and reminds me that I saw somewhere that they were actually going to release the American version which I was just starting to really dig when they cancelled it, and I find it ironic that this was on considering we saw Come Early Morning on Sunday and I couldn't figure out why I new the male protaganist until half way through and realized it was Jeffrey Donovan who was Kregan in the American version).
Also watched NCIS because I still have an irrational crush on Mark Harmon from his days on St. Elsewhere and he has aged very well. McGee is cleaning up nicely and I still fail to find Michael Weatherly hot. I know, I know. It's me. I'm deficient. I figured out the killer within the first 12 minutes, but I enjoy this show more often than not although I rarely remember to watch it.
We got basketball instead of Veronica Mars, which is annoying, however, I've now absorbed about as much network television as it's possible for me to absorb while basking in the glow of my trimmed bangs.
