My last haircut was in November 2006. It was a perfect blend of bob and choppy ends, designed to grow out well. I do my stylists - whom I choose by availability - the favor of letting them know that I won't be back for at least six months. It lasted until about mid-April, when my fine, stringy, straight strands began to get in my face.
I've been wearing pigtails ever since.
Which I have to say, I like. It's easy: pull it up when wet. It's a little different: how many 32-year-olds wander around the grocery store wearing the same hairstyle as their six-year-old daughter? (And yes, I understand that that's probably not a good thing.)
Let's face it. It's supremely lazy.
So on Thursday, I had my hair cut in the same basic shape I have worn since January 1992. I am not often seen in front of the camera; more likely I'm to be found behind it. In fact, in the eight months that I wore my piggies, there isn't a single photo taken that accurately captures them in their full glory. But here I am Friday, captured by my three-year-old's new digital camera.
I'm glad that's out of the way. Now I don't have to head back to the salon until sometime in 2009.
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