On how I let Max cut my hair....and the results thereof.

This is St. Vincent.

I constantly want to be her. Maybe only because Max is in love with her. Because she is lovely, and a good musician, and have you seen her hair? Her hair is everything my hair tries to be, and isn't. So I had a goal. Once I realized that she is actually incredibly similar to me in face shape and hair texture, I decided to just try and be her.

I got a haircut last month. It was okay. I got bangs, as you can see in my first picture of myself. It was a nice step, because up until that day my bangs were like 3 different lengths, and just silly. So I got them cut straight across, and I kind of love them. But my actual haircut just wasn't short enough. It wasn't St. Vincent short enough. Again... you can refer to that first picture. 

So, I have this problem. As soon as I decide for sure that I want something, I will obsess over it until I obtain it. (That is if obtaining said thing is possible. I mean, I'm still not Christine or an elf in Middle Earth.) So I decided that I needed some shorter hair. Shorter hair is healthier, and curls better, and is cooler in the summer. And here's where I went wrong. Instead of spending another 60 dollars to get a trim, (I'm against such crap. I need to eat and pay rent.) I trusted the love of my life to CUT MY HAIR.

I just. I just can't explain why that was the method I settled on. So, he trimmed a piece. A short piece. It was good! So I expected him to continue in such a manner. This was the result:

I'm not going to lie, I cried. I sat on the toilet with my clump of hair in my hand and cried. Max ordered pizza and chicken wings to make me feel better. Max is a good man. Max is not good at trimming hair. He is good at butchering it.

So today, after that whole conversation with the stylist about why I trusted my boyfriend to cut my hair, I look like a glorified mushroom. The bottom layer was so short, that they cut all my hair off. I'm trying not to hate it, and I will learn to like it, but for right now, these are the nicest pictures I could take

I am not St. Vincent

-H.B.