conflicted

okay, so i was way overdue for a visit to my friend rochelle. my shit was looking downright shaggy. and i looked at all sorts of fun pictures of short 'dos online before i gave up and decided to just let her figure something out for me. that's a whole lot of trust, yo - it's hard as all hell to find a stylist you trust enough to do that with.

and as the teen and the bean sat there watching, i relaxed in the chair and let rochelle go to town. i'd kind of grown attached to some of the length on the sides, but wasn't opposed to some change. as much as i loved this cut in the beginning, i was getting a little tired of it, not to mention that i saw heffas rockin' it everywhere i went. i wanted to break free from the herd, you know?

so i watched her clip, comb, cut, cut, cut, and cut some more. i saw a crapload of hair falling to the ground (i didn't even know i had that much hair to begin with). and as she blow-dried, did her famous "haircut after the haircut," and then threw on some product, i was really digging the new cut. it's shorter than i'm used to, and there were a few bang-ish pieces (i hate bangs, i always regret it when i get them, so i've learned not to give in to that temptation anymore), but it was cool - i was a rock starrr-ah!

the hub didn't even really notice much of a difference, although the teen and i were both a little in shock at the sight of it. and when i woke up this morning, all the shorter layers in the back were sticking straight up, so i decided to wash it and see how well i could do it on my own.

and now...i'm not so sure i dig it as much as i did last night. yeah, a professional stylist always does way better than i do at home, and of course it'll grow back (and fast!), but i'm on the fence now.

before:



and after:



[deep breath]

okay. lemme have it.

[cringing]