Since I'm REALLY impulsive, my mom made me set a personal deadline.
Y’see, I want to change my hair. It’s all one length, it’s blonde, and it damn near touches the waist of my jeans. So tonight when I was talking to my mom, I told her I want to get my hair cut, and she told me to think about it for a few weeks to make sure I ABSOLUTELY want it.
This woman is 100% brillz. She knows me incredibly well, and entirely understands how I function. She told me to set a deadline for when I would actually change my hair, and I said December 26th. It’s the most depressing day of the year, and changing my hair would make it an AWESOME day because I’d feel like a million bucks and not even care that Christmas Spirit Season is over.
So I’m going to think about it. I’m going to dwell on whether or not how much I’d miss my hair the way it currently is would outweigh my love of the new hair. And then, on Dec 26th, I’m going to make my final decision.
And by the time I go to sleep that night, one of two things will happen:
a) I will have the same hair. The same long, one-length, honey blonde hair that I’ve had for two years now.
b) I’ll have long layers after chopping off 7 inches of my hair (trust me, I still wouldn’t be anywhere near my shoulders with that), slightly shorter bangs, and if I’m really feeling crazy and in need of a change, I’ll switch the color to an auburny chesnut color. I’ve had it before, it looked hot, I could do it again.
This is of no use to you, I don’t know why you just read all of that. I’m purely just vomiting my thoughts into my blog.
L8r h8r.
