So today, pretty much everybody that greeted me did so by squeezing the bun on top of my head. I’ll admit, my hair was fairly interesting, arranged in some kind of blob with a billion hair grips. Seeing as I haven’t had it cut in goodness knows how long, this is one of two styles that are currently my only options. The other is a scraggly arrangement where I attempt to disguise all the split ends by curling them under each other in a frazzled ensemble. Fortunately for everyone that’s had to look at me for the last few months, I’m getting it sorted tomorrow. With a Groupon. What could possibly go wrong?
I’ve only had one catastrophic hair cut in my life, and that was done by my mum. As my hair was lopped, I watched with dread, locks tumbling to the floor. When I looked in the mirror I actually thought I was going to dye; it was such a sham, poor show mum. I gave her some tuft love, told her she really needed to brush up her technique, because the monstrosity on my head was knot what I had requested. I ran up to my room, and stood pantene in front of my mirror. I braid that I’d be able to sort it out somehow, aussie it in a different light, but the straggly bits just wouldn’t beehive. I was feeling lo, really down and was serumsly angry at my mum. I didn’t talk to her for a week as I needed to mullet over, but eventually I agreed to put it behind me on the condition er scissors stayed away from my head. It’s a long time ago now, but our relationship was permanently affected. Thanks a bunch mum.
I was stood at a barberque the other day.
30 minutes I waited for a haircut