Triangle Head

Every few years I get the urge to do something, anything, to my hair. I tend to shy away from anything drastic, but I think that's because I've always had good, responsible stylists who would discourage me any time I suggested something a little, well, stupid. Unfortunately, my last hair cut was performed by someone I had never met before and who didn't give a whit what I looked like after I walked out the door. What was I thinking, you ask? Well, I was at a super fancy-pants resort with a world class spa and salon, and I just thought I'd throw caution to the wind! The gal chopping at my locks kept reassuring me that I would look great, and that it would be easy-peasy to style. But she doesn't have two kids nipping at her ankles while she operates a flat iron, and maybe she didn't notice the full, wavy texture of my hair. The resulting cut, short with shorter layers and long bangs, sticks straight out to the sides when I let my hair air dry, My hair takes on the exact same dimensions of a character from Super Mario Brothers. 

Here is my triangle head in it's full glory.

Horrid. Horrid, horrid, horrid. It's like The Rachel, only awful. So every time I wash my hair I have to spend time I don't have flat ironing it so that I can get it to look a little less puffy. Like this:

Not quite as horrible, but more annoying. Why? Well, there's the time factor. Then there's the 'slowly killing my hair with heat and products' factor. Then there is the 'have to wash my hair more often because of products' factor. You can see how it becomes a vicious cycle ending in me pulling a Brittany shaving the whole lot. (Wouldn't that be weird, Lora?) 

But if I've learned anything over the years from this whole blogging deal, it's that fake mustaches make everything a little bit better. 

Have a good weekend!