Me sporting my short hair and glasses with my friend Kelley at Chevy's last night

So my wild locks have been growing out of control for some time now. They had grown to the middle of my back and while that length is pretty when healthy, my over-grown layers and split ends kept me constantly putting it into a ponytail unless I was going somewhere and needed to look nice, in which then I straightened to a more controled state. So I decided to get a hair cut. Nothing extreme. I just wanted the dead ends trimmed and some layers cut again to take away the weight. When I asked the hair dresser how much would be necessary, she showed me about an inch and a half of my ends. I thought—okay, I can handle that. Then I told her “please keep the length as much as you can and cut the minimum amount necessary.” Then I showed her a picture of the style I was hoping for and off she went. When she was done, I couldn’t believe what I saw reflecting back at me. My hair looked nothing like the picture. Two days later I grabbed my eyebrow scissors and cut off the bottom layer of my haircut to make it look better. It was a bold move, but I was broke and couldn’t get it fixed professionally. If I held back, I would still be walking around with hair that looked like a bob-cut in the front but with a thin longer layer in the back that didn’t fit and made my hair look like a strange rendition of a mullet. Between the hair and my new glasses (darker, thicker, and squarer) I’m having to get used to the new me. I feel a bit more mommyish and a bit more simple, but at least my hair is easier to manage. I’ll just have to start over in my attempt to grow out my hair and next time, I won’t cheat on my regular hairdresser.