I know it probably doesn’t seem like a huge risk, but when I went to my stylist yesterday, I told her to raise the neck line a little more. And thin it all out. And cut my bangs a little shorter.
“I give you three appointments,” she said.
“Until what?” I scoffed.
“Until you go full pixie.”
I do feel the urge to keep going shorter, and while both of us considered just going for it yesterday, we decided we both wanted to be sure before we jumped on that ship. Not a good decision to make when we both say, “Well…”
I was all good with the shorter ‘do until she pulled out the electric razor. “That makes me nervous,” I said.
“That makes you nervous? All the things you’re willing to do and that makes you nervous?”
Turns out she was just cleaning up the lower edge at my neck. Although I knew she would never put a razor to my head, even seeing it pulled out made me anxious and excited at the same time (In college, I briefly considered shaving my head. The whole feminist thing…).
Here’s a photo, even though it’s kind of hard to tell the difference:
Next hair appointment I have may produce a more shocking photo. I can feel that courage brewin’ in my gut.