At least, the hair is. Specifically, my new bangs. I decided to get bangs again. I threw caution to the wind and my sideswept, long bangs and went for a blunt cut fringe.
You know how I like to live dangerously.
That and because I was so tired of my ever widening forehead. I don't know what it is, but whenever I get a haircut, my hair is shocked into a funk for at least two to three days. No matter what I do to style it, it just looks retarded.
So it is my custom to hate the bangs for at least a week...until they grow on me... they grow out a little...and I remember how to style the naps on the side on my head with heat within an inch of it's life.
The minute I got off the car Michael looked at me with a snarl on his face. So I know the bangs weren't working for him.
Sigh.
Can't do anything about it now except let 'em grow out.
