Here is the attempt of me trying to see what a lob would look like on me at the pool today:
ignore the muppet face, I am suffering through a week of glasses and no makeup for the sake of my eye ulcers that keep trying to find a permanent home in my cornea.
Anyway, I still don't know what I am doing.
I wish getting a haircut wasn't this huge life event. If I could get a guarantee that my hair would grow back in six months or that I could still do the hairstyles I love, I would not have any hesitation. THE UNKNOWN! It kills me.
I feel like in order to truly understand my hesitation, everyone realllllly needs to understand the last time my hair was this short:
|I have so many questions I literally don't even know where to start, so I won't. I just wanted to make note of the D.C skate shoe in the background.|
NINTH GRADE IS A BEYOTCH
SOMETIMES ALL OF THE TIMES. EVERY OF THE TIMES.
Wurk that lob, girl.
So this was just a really long and pointless post about my haircut insecurities. Stay tuned for Saturday.