I got a hair cut.
I was thinking a trim, maybe 4-5 inches off to leave me about an inch below my shoulders. The lady heard an inch above the shoulders. And after the first cut I corrected her. After. So the end result is a wee bit (aka a super ton) shorter than I would prefer.
So like a grown up practical adult I drove home with M in silence and promptly ran to my room to cry into my pillow for a good hour. M wasn’t comforting, I wasn’t logical, and I finally realized that whatever, it’s hair.
The next day I woke up and worked it out. Something about a straightener and just not giving enough care about it anymore worked in my favor and I went to school and received many compliments on my new sassy cut. So much volume, so cute, a much cooler look.
Then one student said, “did you cut your hair?” I said yes.
kid: “You look like blarhghag”
me: “I look like a DORK?!?!”
kid: “No, you look like DORA”
me: “oh. okay!”
kid: “I hate Dora”
dammit.
Ok you HAVE TO show us.
I like the dialogue.