Last night, I was somewhat complaining about my hair and trying to get my sister to commit to cutting it. She didn’t want to, but my hair was getting quite bushy in spots. My mom said that I should go somewhere, but I really didn’t want to because I never get what I want when I go to someone.
So I ended up in the bathroom with my mom holding a pair of scissors over my head at 9:30 at night. For a long time, neither one of us dared do anything, and then I took a section of hair, some scissors, and I cut away.
My mom cut the rest of it (thank goodness–I am terrible with scissors) and it ended up exactly what I wanted and it actually looked okay even though there was no trained professional in sight.
And it was fun. And random.
(Trained professionals are not always the best, at all. Many times, people end up paying for things they really didn’t have to pay for. I guess it’s good to support the economy, though, and give some people some income.)