This morning I cut my own fringe, and the result was not disastrous.
The reason for my cutting my own fringe was a gradually but noticeably mounting hate for my hair combined with lack of resources or motivation to go and get it professionally cut. Obviously poor reasoning and decision-making, and yet somehow, disaster did not befall me.
I had an engagement tonight that I couldn't get out of with an "I've fucked up my hair" excuse, which normally would guarantee that I would a) fuck up my hair and b) be in a ton of photos with fucked-up hair, but neither of these things happened.
I have never attempted to cut my own fringe before in my life, and I'm not sure I've ever managed to get something right the first time before, and yet my fringe looks like a fringe that might reasonably be expected to sit on the forehead of a normal person.
When I went out tonight, I got multiple compliments on my excellent new fringe before I informed anyone I'd cut it myself.
Practical tests have since revealed that, despite what my brain immediately thought, the sudden discovery of a fringe-cutting talent has not made me any better at sewing in zips. I'm not sure why that is.
No comments:
Post a Comment