swatkat

So I decided to rejoin the human race by getting that really, really long overdue haircut. A novel plan, you will say. I thought so too. Little did I know what fate had set in store for me.

'Please make sure it's long enough for me to tie it up,' I said. Because it's FREAKING HOT, as you know, and I don't like hair falling all over me.

'Of course,' she said. She, as in the stylist. She's a generally nice lady, and I trust her, so I let her do as she pleased without paying too much attention to what she's doing (and well, I find this kind of thing horribly boring, so I was thinking about other things to entertain myself).

And then it was done, and I realised, to my HORROR, that she had cut it short - so short that it's quite IMPOSSIBLE to tie it up in *any* way, and did I mention how hot it is? And worse, she'd cut it so that my hair, which is quite wavy by itself, is now an impossible mass of curls. Basically, it now looks like I have a crow's nest on top of my head. Oh, and there's a lock in front which keeps falling over my eyes and I *hate* when that happens. *headdesk*

Of course, this means that I'll never have to comb my hair ever again because it makes no difference whatsoever. None. Believe me, I tried (somewhere I can hear my ten year old self shrieking in joy). My mother said it was 'cute', because a. it's just like my family to mock me in time of distress (and today I'll be meeting the entire lot of them *shudders*) or b. she really thinks it's cute because my hair was exactly like this when I was a kid, and our scary history teacher would tell me to comb my hair everyday, which I did, but it made no difference anyway.

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Yo,