due to the fact that my hair is curly, and usually styled in a festive "rat's nest" type fashion, no one ever notices that it's unevenly cut in every possibly way. usually, whenever it felt like my hair was getting in my way (this would happen often after a few glasses of balvenie) i'd get my sewing scissors out and give 'er a snip - much to the horror of many past room mates. "it'll grow back!" i'd reassure them, taking a sip of scotch.
i never really felt the need to get a "real" haircut, so it was possibly as a result of extreme boredom and/or lack of human contact, that prompted me to call across the street to classy cuts and make myself an appointment. lucky for me they were wiiiiide open and i could walk right in on my lunch break. this is when most people probably would have reconsidered ever calling a place called classy cuts, but i was feeling brave.
i'm sure diane thought i was a loon when i described the haircut i wanted as "an 8 year old girl in 1987", but after some gentle convincing/demanding she agreed to do what i wanted.
look at the cuteness!
look at the mirror-like shine!
hooray for $26 welland haircuts!