(PS-This take a HUGE act of courage on my part to put my own picture on here! This is one of the main reasons I started to take photographs after all, to avoid being in front of the lens!)
Every 8 weeks this happens...
The tubes of color, the scissors, the wax. My sweet angel comes to our home to cut all of our hair and most importantly restore my youth, or at least cover the 1+ inch of grey and let me continue to live in denial.
Oh yea... not to mention the wine because she's been coming for 8 years and 3 kiddos ago, and I am SO not above bribery to keep her coming!
Admittingly, I'm not a girly girl. Manicures are a waste of time and money. And high heels plain and simple hurt! I really don't care much about my hair. And thusly I make poor choices, like dye it magenta, or shave it all off. (I actually did one of those two things! You'll leave you to guess which.)
So the angel was working on my color, (a huge undertaking in itself!) and Sunny bounced in the room and declared I needed bangs. She was serious! She and the angel discussed it at length. How long? How thick? Honestly I could've cared less. That's the kinda of girl I'm not.
Then Sunny mumbled something about Zooey Deschanel. (Think 500 Days of Summer) Sold!
I wonder what Sunny will think of next!
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