I went and got my hair cut today.
I know that some people have a hard time cutting short hair, so I always take a picture with me so that the stylist doesn't have to rely on my half-assed description of what I want, they have a picture to refer to.
The girl that cut my hair this morning had never done it before. She seemed nice enough...a little chatty, perhaps, but I didn't think much of it.
Until she was paying more attention to talking than she was to my hair and took off a big chunk that was WAY shoerter than I wanted it. I like to leave a little bit in front of my ears so I look at least a little feminine. Cutting it off makes me look butch.
She cut it off. And she cut the rest of my hair short too. I mentioned that I didn't want it any shorter than the piece she had just cut, and she said "oh, is it too short?"
"Well, yeah, it is. But you can't glue it back on, so you may as well finish what you've started."
So she did.
I cried half the way home, and I'm sitting here in tears again. I look like a freakin' boy. I'm crying over that, and I'm crying because I'm ashamed. I'm ashamed because I'm crying over my hair. Because I am, apparently, vain. I know I take a pride in my appearance, but I had always thought that I wasn't so shallow that it was the most important thing to me. Apparently, it is.
So, I have boy hair, and I'm vain. I'm also drenched because it's raining hard outside and I got caught in it. My back hurts (the rain does that to me), I miss my husband, and I'm vain.
Who knew that getting a haircut could cause so much introspection?