Six Inches.*

Leave it to me to abandon my blog with the hint of visiting a hairdresser, and then forgetting to update. For all you know, I could have been and gone to the salon and spent the last week rocking myself in a corner from the trauma of it all, but actually, no. I'm just forgetful. And buggered up the appointment time, which it turns out wasn't until this afternoon.

I'll confess: I'm still a wee bit wary of hairdressers, ever since one cut in five thousand awful layers (which are still growing out, by the way) into my nice, one-length locks. Visiting a new salon is always a bit stressful for long-haired girls, because for the most part, they make you trim it to grow it better.

(Dudes! My hair is my cloak. I need to hide behind it!)

To cut a long story short, here are some bits and bobs to summarise.

• The stylist is awesome. She owns the place, she listens, and she has pretty hair too.


• She told me that yes, as usual, I'd need to cut it for it to keep growing healthier, but that she'd do it bit by bit so I wouldn't be too traumatised.


• She told me I had pretty hair.


• I listened to her, and she knew what she was on about.

I ended up chopping off 6 inches of hair. SIX FREAKING INCHES. But the difference between this chop and the last, is that she made it look decent. And aside from a longish fringe, it's basically mostly the same length, especially at the back. Mama likey! It's been a while since my fine hair was the same length, and now it feels a lot thicker. My lovely stylist also did these nice swooshy curly ends to it, however walking home in the wind blew them all out right away. Hrm.

So yes. I'll try and take a picture of it tomorrow when it's more normal (aka, flatter than a pancake) and you can judge it for yourselves. No doubt I'll be missing it when I comb it tomorrow (six inches, wherefore art thou, six inches?) but it's still long.

* Of HAIR, you perve. Sheesh!