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This is my hair when I wake up in the morning.
Frankly, I'm getting tired of trying to flat iron it into submission. I need to figure out how to tell my stylist that the layers she loves and can blow sleek and straight due to her ability to see all angles of my damned head is not something I can replicate at home, and that she needs to adjust appropriately. I'm not sure if she knows I air dry my hair. I thought I told her, but she likes to talk more than listen. I mean, I tell her every time the side layers are juuuust right and not to snip them, but she snips them so they won't stay tucked behind my adorable but unhelpful little ears.
Anyway, until then should I even bother trying to fight this mop? I get my hair cut next weekend, so maybe a week of not curly but not straight either hair will be okay?
Hmmm. Such problems I have. I do have a bona fide migraine, though. And a cat licking my hand as I type.
I also slept until ten this morning, and my dreams were filled with Scott Caan, fleeing from bad guys to remote cabins, forests, small town gas stations, and phones built into the pedestals of random statuary. So, yeah.
Frankly, I'm getting tired of trying to flat iron it into submission. I need to figure out how to tell my stylist that the layers she loves and can blow sleek and straight due to her ability to see all angles of my damned head is not something I can replicate at home, and that she needs to adjust appropriately. I'm not sure if she knows I air dry my hair. I thought I told her, but she likes to talk more than listen. I mean, I tell her every time the side layers are juuuust right and not to snip them, but she snips them so they won't stay tucked behind my adorable but unhelpful little ears.
Anyway, until then should I even bother trying to fight this mop? I get my hair cut next weekend, so maybe a week of not curly but not straight either hair will be okay?
Hmmm. Such problems I have. I do have a bona fide migraine, though. And a cat licking my hand as I type.
I also slept until ten this morning, and my dreams were filled with Scott Caan, fleeing from bad guys to remote cabins, forests, small town gas stations, and phones built into the pedestals of random statuary. So, yeah.
