So 11, or is it 12…, weeks in, and it was time for a haircut.
Mine that is.
My husband was a bit dubious at first, but I managed to convince him it was easy and I could talk him through it without studying YouTube.
Firstly, we (I) decided to forgo the mirror.
Micro-management of the process would have led to unnecessary tension.
There was already enough of that as my daughter decided she’d like to try. We drew the line at that, so after a lengthy discussion, there was some flouncing.
Phase one was cutting the hair to the “right” length…
We settled on at least the same length all round.
Having regularly cut my sisters’ hair when we were growing up, I can confirm they sometimes ended up with shorter hair than they requested. So nothing too unexpected there… they might say a bit of karma!
Phase 2 was the layering, interspersed with a bit more tension with said daughter about how best to sweep up the hair now on the floor.
While not as relaxing as the full professional shampoo, cut, blow dry experience, I can also confirm I’ve walked out of hair dressers more disappointed. Does that amount to a glowing endorsement?!
After the past weeks of sameness, it definitely delivered a change!
Although, I rather suspect there could be a long queue for the hairdressers when lockdown lifts…
Tough Mother 