The Haircut

My Dad and Big V have been hoping for weeks that I would get my hair cut. Hair in my face and some "what a cute little girl" comments eventually forced my mom to give in. What to say about the haircut? I hated it. Hated the scissors in my face, hated the chair, and especially hated the cape, even thought it had fish on it. We eventually went outside to complete the cut and I came out alive and looking handsome.

Rocking my Dead T-shirt and looking relatively ready (and pretty shaggy) pre-cut.

It all went down hill from here. We don't have any pictures in the traumatizing cape or the attempts to cut my hair indoors. We eventually moved outside.

Where a phone temporarily distracted me.

And then I remembered that I hate this. Mom's hairdresser Kelly was a good sport.

I take a break with dad with some wet and slicked back hair.

The cut is over and I'm still not happy.

Nope, still pissed.

Back at home I'm in good enough spirits to beat my drum.

I celebrated 4th of July with some festive overalls and my new 'do.