Hair Intervention

I have been growing my hair out for what seems like forever. Usually come summer and the heat and humidity that come with the seasonal love of my life, I give up. My hair dresser (is there a new word for hair dresser? You know how like flight attendants are now called that instead of stewardess?? Oh well.) is quite used to me walking after not seeing her for about 6-8 months and telling her to cut it off. Cut. It. All. Off.

Nancy rocks and always gets quites excited when I walk in and tell her this. Sadly Nancy is quite popular and if you want an appointment with her, be prepared to book your time with her a year in advance and give over your first born. OK she is not THAT bad but needless to say - I cannot even book with her 4 weeks in advance. I am a spur of the moment kinda gal ya know? I have not seen Nancy in quite some time. Often I run into little places when I have 10 minutes of free time and get it cut, usually this involves some begging and pleading. I don't even remember when the last time I saw Nancy was but I miss her. She knows what I like and what I don't like, she gets me, she completes me.

Anyways, I got a little off track there. I am growing my hair out. Everytime I am about to give up and lop it all off someone will comment about how they like my hair this length or a miraculous day will occur and I will have a good hair day (they are few and far between). The chick I saw last time (at the same salon as Nancy works) was young. I was skeered. I lacked confidence. She did not speak much English and did not understand much either and thought for sure I was going to be walking out of there with a bowl cut. However she did a not bad job - she understood that I wanted to keep the length but I needed some kind of style. It gets heavy my hair (might as well fit with the rest of the body!) and it gets thick and bushy in the back and I do not have time to be straightening every day!

I also have some weird cowlicks, why they are called that I will never know. It makes having normal bangs pretty well impossible.

So I am on the elevator today at work and am staring in disgust in those mirrors in the elevator. Can someone please explain to me why there has to me mirrors in an elevator? My hair looks like someone's hair who had put in a ponytail wet and then took it out when it dried and just left it. Like there is permanent dent in my hair. So the elevator stops and this woman walks in with the cutest pageboy style. Really short. Really cute.

I need an intervention ASAP.