So I chopped off my hair.
As usual, I started out subtle, just a couple of inches off, nothing much. But it was boring, and I was bored. So I cut off some more, hollowed out some bits, layered some others, and because my hair curls in a very forgiving way, nothing went terribly wrong that I could see.
(I’ve been cutting my own hair for about six, seven years now. My self-esteem does funny things when I go to a salon, and I used to be really serious and specific about my hair. Cutting it myself allowed me a sense of freedom and flexibility that made a huge difference, and also saved me money. Win win.)
Then I flipped my part, and this is what I look like now.
Or, okay, this is what I looked like on Sunday after pulling an all-nighter, still sick — note the chapped lips — and wearing my new (ish) glasses c/o Firmoo.