The Long and the Short of It.

Friday was spent in a salon chair where I was given exactly what was asked for, “Shorter. Like a ponytail, but not the actual pony tail. Not a bob.” Famous last words, for Rihanna I am not. Although repeatedly told it looks great, cute and modern, every look to the mirror elicits the same response: cringe, scowl and what the hell was I thinking. This immediately followed by the googled factoid that “human hair grows 1/2 inch per month” and October is totally right around the corner. In five short days I have purchased clips, barrettes, bobby pins and headbands. Simply put, this hair cut is not me. I am a bob, not a longish pixie. I tried the pants on and guess what? I HAVE A FUCKING MUFFIN TOP. But I resolve not to cry, not to bitch, not to tackle a long haired girl with scissors for cheap extensions, I will wait this out, one half inch month at a time. And that is the long of it, the short of it is obviously my hair.

Please God, Just Once . . .

Dear Hair,

Tomorrow you have a date with a pair of scissors. Due to pregnancy, bed rest and life with a newborn you have managed to attain record length. Aside from an ill advised decision in college to grow you (oh those photos), this is the longest you have been for a while. Quite frankly, I hate you. Right now your evilness is harness back with an elastic, because when unleashed you seem to engage every orifice on my face causing me to curse and turn red with rage. Not to mention the post pregnancy shedding, there are so many long blackish brown hairs one can take. And I have reached my limit. However hair, there is a problem with the cut. Since arriving in San Francisco almost five years ago, I do not think I have had one haircut in which produced delight within. After the WHE following Owen’s birth, one could say that I have been scissor shy. Actually I am razor shy, because razors and my hair do not agree. I swear to God, if this lady tomorrow attempts to cut my hair with a razor I will punch her and then claim insanity at the assault and battery hearing. So hair, I ask you to behave so that I can get a hairstyling to thrill. I don’t know what I want to do, but it may involve a few shorn inches, maybe bangs, maybe a Pulp Fictionesque Mia, hopefully not tears. Haircutting gods please allow one haircut in which from the salon I emerge without the will to kill. Thank you.

Cassie

Return of the Blunt Bob

Can you say sassy? Sophisticated? Classic? Timeless? Pure Awesomeness. Well I can, watch me now - Blunt Bob. Yes friends, the blunt bob has returned upon my head, thus ridding me of the Crack Ho #2 look I have been sporting since the WHE. Oh looky at me and my purty head of hair. The best part of the hair shearing was the following:

Marcus: So, what kind of finishing product do you use?

Me: What?

Marcus: What do you put in your hair after you dry it?

Me: Oh man, do you think I am an actual girl? Hahahahahah. Finishing product. Hahahahaha. Don't let the boobies fool you dude, I am lucky to get a brush in my hair after the blowdry.

Marcus: You're funny.

So there it is I love my hair. And the next time some lady comes at me with a razor to cut my hair, I am going to go all matrix on her, fling myself out of the chair, go airborne for 30 seconds, land behind her, grab the razor and then put it up to her neck and say - no way bitch, not this time! The hostility of a poor hair cut never really leaves you.