Shor'nuff

So I couldn’t stand it one more humid, sweaty minute.  

I went to a very exclusive stylist.  In fact, he is so exclusive that he has cut my hair only one other time.  He is so exclusive that he only has four other clients.  He always uses the most avant garde techniques though.  Last time, he used the electric clippers to crop my locks into an elfish buzz.  This time he reverted to the pinking shears (those zig-zaggy scissors usually used for cutting fabric to sew).  

What?  

Ok, so I talked Partner into cutting my hair (he was reluctant and yes, once, a long time ago, I convinced him to shave my head with the electric clippers; and yes, he did use the pinking shears today, at my insistence).  I pulled it all back into a neat ponytail with two rubber bands and told him to aim between the bands.  That’s it.  No fiddling, no finishing, no evening it out.  It is now a lovely, shaggy bob, longer in the front than the back.  And I think it’s curlier than last time.  Or perhaps it’s just humid.  Ha!  When is it not humid here.  

It’s my first haircut in two years, almost to the date.  If you count the blue tiles in the picture, you’ll see that he cut off a smidge more than a foot of hair, which will be donated somewhere.  I sent my last batch to Locks of Love.  

Oh, and we finished grouting the tile today.