lots of ME ME ME non running below – fair warning. I’ll be hunting for some teeth whitener and bronzing powder while you read…
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Once upon a time, there was a broke college girl that preferred spending her hard earned TGI Friday’s hostessing $$$ on cheap beer and “going out tops” from Forever21 than going to the salon. She mastered the at-home highlight + cut – starting with the aid of roommates, and eventually developing her practice to such perfection she could pull that blonde mop through a highlight cap and run some kitchen scissors through it all on her own.
2006 – painted that pink bedroom myself, btw. holler.
Then, after spending a semester watching too much America’s Next Top Model, she fell in love with the pixie cut. So cute! So edgy! A reason to put mascara on every day as to not look like a boy!
And she carried the printout (procured from a productive day at softball study tables googling “short short blonde hair”) in her bag for months.
Until one weekend – away on a road series in Indiana – a teammate suggested finding a salon for a “quick trim” in lieu of the informal team dinner.
Pixie wisher girl tagged along.
Pixie wisher girl got antsy – knowing the printout was still in her bag – and blurted out to an unoccupied JC Penney salon girl (they were the only place within walking distance of our hotel) that I wanted a cut, too. No need asking what she thought of the picture, if she knew anything about short hair, or if she was even a stylist and not the floor sweeper.
Pixie wisher girl walked out with a really poorly-cut pixie.
2007 – Yes, I rocked a fauxhawk a time or two. I played college softball. It was accepted.
It was fun. Nobody really loved it except Brian, but I liked it once it grew out past its weird weedwhackered little boy phase. I really liked it when I didn’t even own a brush or hairdryer and got ready in <5 minutes.
Lazy girl perks. More time for sleep. And possibly being late less.
2008 – Why did I always tilt my head and smash it against someone else’s?
But growing it out was a serious pain in the ass. TALK ABOUT A MULLET. Maintenance wasn’t easy, especially since it was too advanced for gratis at-home work and I was still a broke college student (albeit with a reformed Natty Light/F21 addiction) trying to stretch as much time as possible between visits to the hair chair. Wore a lot of baseball hats. Thank baby Jesus Instagram and blogs didn’t exist then. Very little photographic evidence of that awkward phase…
Yet, here I am itching to go short-short again.
that’s actually not me, in case you were wondering. I’m not an English big-screen movie star.
I’ve cleared the cut (aka sent it to my hairdresser in hopes she won’t let me back out) and booked the appointment. It’s not for another month, but I’m excited and don’t have anything else to write about and also I spent like 90 minutes last night on Facebook looking through old photos when I couldn’t sleep, so…
Please don’t try to talk me out of it. I’ll make sure it’s still long enough for a race braid.
- Have you had a really horrendous/tragic hairdo? Share on the OUaL Facebook if you’re brave. I wanna see some teased bangs and rainbow colors, man.