Every six or seven months, when I look in the mirror, I dislike what I see. My hair, you see has gotten really long again. This would be fine if I had pretty or interesting hair, but I don't. I have boring hair. It is medium brown, fine and straight, there is a slight wave and if I'm not careful I get hilariously awful colics. But other than that it is uninteresting. It hangs there and then when it gets too long, it becomes even frizzier than usual and is hard to make look nice when I need to.
So, every six or seven months, I decide it's time to do something new. Lately this is precipitated by hearing that my friend Jules is getting her hair cut. I don't know why, but she tells me she is and then I think "that sounds like a good idea." (Sorry, Jules, Nathan will probably be mad at you for this.)
I reached this critical stage last Friday and, after spending the day substitute teaching English, I drove to the Hair Cuttery in DeKalb. Going to the salon always comes with a slight feeling of mischievousness since Nathan hates even talking about it.
When I left the Hair Cuttery that day, I had shoulder-length hair with a few cute layers and I was happy. I much prefer my hair at this length it looks healthier and it's easier to do things with and, truth be told, I just don't like having really long hair.