A bad hair day

Dawg recently got a haircut, courtesy of hubby. It’s a bad one. I also just got a haircut, not courtesy of hubby I hasten to add, and it’s also a bad one. But whereas I pull my hair back off my face with sunglasses, or tie it up till it grows again Dawg couldn’t give a sh*t about how bad his haircut is. Be more like Dawg. Embrace the bad haircuts, even if they make you look like Gizmo the Gremlin. (Dawg, not me)

“Can I speak to the manager”…. haircut!?!

Have you ever heard of a “Can I speak to the manager?” haircut?

Nah, me neither. But apparently I now have one according to my teenage son. I googled it and it’s an actual thing. Not a particulary GOOD thing to have mind you…

Last week in a brain-freeze moment (NOT a mid-life crisis as son calls it) I got my hairdresser to chop all my hair off. Now in today’s world that’s a pretty shallow thing to blog about. But then again I haven’t been this short since I used to get mistaken for a boy all the time!

Anyway now with my ‘Speak-to-the-manager’ haircut and ‘resting-bitch-face’ (yep, daughter added that one in the mix too) I think I might as well go order my cardigan and knitting patterns.

"Who's a pretty boy then?"
“Who’s a pretty boy then?”