haircut

So, I cut my hair.

A lot.

I was really tired of it.

A few posts ago I put in a photo of Gennie and me, where she's hugging my stomach in front of the bushes. You can kinda see my hair in that one . . . down past my elbows.

Not anymore.

I figured that since everyday I was just scooping the whole mess up into a ponytail or claw, not taking the time to do anything with it, what's the point of having all that hair? Too hot, too easily tangled in tiny fingers.

So I had it all cut off.

Now I have to actually do something with it each day, but luckily it just needs a little mousse and upside-down drying and it's ready. This photo was taken the night I had it cut . . . I wanted to have a record of what it was supposed to look like in case I couldn't get it to act correctly the next day when I tried to do it myself.

I love it.

Except that at the end of the day, I forget that it's all gone and still try to put it up in a ponytail.

Then it kinda looks like Pebbles from the Flintstones. All I need is the tiny bone.

Boy, I look tired in this photo. I should go to sleep.