As I mentioned on Twitter recently, I hate the new hairdresser I tried out. Why do I have so much bad luck in this department!? Remember pregnant Marilyn Monroe? Not good. Well, I tried someone new based on a recommendation and liked the highlights I got, but not the cut. I showed her some pictures of some sassy ‘dos with wedge bangs and layered ends, not concerned with taking a few inches off, but still wanting medium length hair. The result was a short little girl bob with straight bangs and a blunt bottom. I hated it. Yes, that is why I bought a hat on a whim.

I called the girl around a dozen times over the last week (she wasn’t good at calling me back and when she did she left a voice mail because I was busy at work) to get it fixed into something more of what I wanted. When I went back to get it “fixed” on Thursday, she dry cut me (meaning, no washing, no wetting, also no styling) for all of 5 minutes, basically pretending to give me more layers. She didn’t do anything to make me look decent and it was obvious to me that she didn’t care since she already got my money and this was pro-bono.

So frustrated by looking like a little girl, I went back to my usual girl and my usual salon and forked over more moolah to get my hair fixed. Since the previous girl had already taken off considerable length, I went even shorter to get a good look. So, this is my summer ‘do.

After the pro did it:

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And after I slept on it:

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In other news, I took Claire Bear to the downtown library today to watch the marionette show. This is the last week of Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves. (Did you know that Nashville has the largest Kurd population of any city in the United States? I didn’t either.) It was great fun, as always, and it had her rapt attention for 30 minutes, which is quite impressive.

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I knew it was a successful puppet-filled morning, as I was being serenated by toddler snores the whole drive home. She’s sleeping quietly now. Huz is studying at the library. I like my hair again. Life is good.

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