Before: In case you forgot, these are the low-slung brown pigtails I was eager to get rid of.
After: As you can see I’m still rocking the home alone pigtails. They are home alone because I have some weird thing about a forty-year-old woman walking out in the world with pigtails. And because they make me look like Cabbage Patch Kid.
Also, Helen the Haircutter, and I have different ideas of what constitutes a bob. Whatever, I don’t even mind because she was so super nerdy when she was explaining the way she formulates hair color that I was totally enamored. And when she said, “I’m going to dry cut your hair.” I said “what does that even mean?” She said. “Because your hair is so fine, and there is so much of it I want to make sure that I get each individual strand. If we were restructuring rather than improving the current structure, I’d keep it wet.”
How can you not love that? Also I spend a lot of time shaking my head back and forth because I have freakishly soft hair (due to the aforementioned fineness and the fact that I only wash it every three to four days) and I like the way it feels when it brushes against my jaw line. It’s kind of awesome.