Running with Scissors

Early last February on a cold, wet Saturday afternoon I got a BAD haircut. Now, I'm not what I would consider an overly vain woman. I mean, I like to try and look nice, but I'm not too picky about things like haircuts. I have big hair. It's curly somedays, wavy others and frankly, it has to be a really, really bad haircut for it to look any different than it usually does. My hair eats haircuts for breakfast. So you can rest assured when I tell you that this was a bad haircut, it was a truly horrendous haircut. I was butchered people. Butchered.

It was with a great deal of reluctance some ten months later that I headed to the salon with Mo on Saturday morning. She had just discovered a new hairdresser, a fun Albanian woman named Mirella who came to Toronto by way of several years in New Jersey. She gave Mo a great haircut, she wears her lip liner darker than her lipstick and (I was promised) she was prone to using the adjective "freakin'". How could I turn down an opportunity to hang with someone like that? It might even be worth getting butchered again. Besides, things were getting desperate...I couldn't let my trust issues get in the way.

Here's my freakin' Before Shot:



Hard at freakin' work



The After Shot, freakin' shocking!



Never have I felt so "smooth". I felt like the Cowardly Lion after they get their makeovers when they arrive in Emerald City. All...buffed and shiny. Of course, I could never blow it out like that myself so in the interest of full disclosure here I am abusing my web cam at CSIS, so you can see what the haircut looks like for real.



You can tell it's a good haircut because it makes my cheeks look so thin.



Well, Bloggy McBloggerson, that should put all those rumors to rest that I'm a thinking person who writes about things like the Liberal Leadership vote on her blog. I was going to write about Dion and his future but political leaders, they come and they go. A good haircut is forever.