Adventures in hairstyling: bangs? Fire-engine red? Why not?
Below, proof that I should not be allowed to touch my own hair when in a fragile/bored emotional state. I came home from work a few days ago, thought, “You know what I really need right now? Bangs!” and proceeded to spontaneously weed-whack my fringe. “How hard could it be?” Famous last words. Um, so…hair stretches, didja know? And Jolie’s hand is not so steady. And, apparently, I am blind. The end result is bangs that look like they were chopped by a drunk two year old; if you’ll examine the bottom picture, you can see that the hair above my left eyebrow is clearly about an inch and a half shorter than that above my right.
Beauty expert, indeed.
As for the color…well, sure, it’s day-glo orange and oddly patchy (I was going for Miranda from SATC-meets-Jessica Rabbit, but ended up with red bangs, orange layers, and weird, randomly-placed blonde highlights), but I don’t care–I love being a redhead! Maybe next time I’ll keep my mitts to myself and let a real hairstylist have a go.