I know you've all been such patient little troopers. It's time, though. The Hair is done. And the photo of The Hair is taken.
But, first, we must discuss The Hair. Why? Because it's my blog, that's why. Suck it up and read on.
The Hair has had a wild and crazy ride throughout it's life perched on top of my head. It has seen boy cuts, mushroom cuts, poodle perms, bad dye jobs, etc. It hasn't always been pretty. And, for the most part, I didn't care. I did not style The Hair myself. I was a rebel. I chose to ignore the big bangs of the eighties and opted for long, straight bangs hiding in my face. A decade later, when everyone wanted long, straight bangs hanging in their face, I got swirly, curly perms. In the end, I almost never liked The Hair.
However, that did not stop me from having an illogical attachment to The Hair. I had difficulties letting anyone cut The Hair. I could go months, even a year, without getting The Hair cut. And when I did, I felt like I was getting a limb cut off.
Why? Because I have issues. Keep up, people.
Also, just about the only time The Hair was styled (for school photos or flower girl gigs), my mom would curl The Hair with a curling iron. My mom wielding a hot metal stick was a scary thing indeed. In fact, I had more than one line of burnt skin across my forehead while growing up. Hence, perhaps, the need to curl The Bangs over the forehead. To hide the scars.
I'm sorry, Mom. You know it's true.
So, in summary, The Hair has had a tumultuous life. I feel, however, that The Hair has a resting point. A style that it strives to be. YEARNS to be. MUST BE. It's all very scientific. Really.
So, through absolutely no scientific process at all, I feel that The Hair has finally found it's destiny. With the help of my stylist, Leva. Who kept telling everyone that I was getting my hair cut like Farrah Foster. Whatever.
OK. Are you ready? For sure?
First, a sneaky surveillance photo of what The Hair looked like before:
I know. I know. The Hair is FABULOUS. It was slightly more fab last night, but the damn camera batteries needed more time to charge. It's still AWESOME, though. Not quite Jill Munroe, but close. Maybe a little bit of Sabrina and Kelly thrown into the mix. I will need a much better curling iron, too. For bigger curls. BIG.
You should probably stop drooling now. I know you love The Hair, but you don't want to electrocute yourself by dripping on your keyboard.
And, just as a special weekend treat for all my visitors to Taradise, a photo I found of myself when I was younger....as a detective.
Nancy Drew, watch your ass.