Now as a mama of three, I take a long time to get around to getting my hair cut. I have long hair with layers. By the time I go to a professional, the layers are all outgrown and at the bottom, giving an effect of a fussy ballgown with way too many floor-grazing ruffles. It is as if a runaway 80s prom dress decided to make my head its home. I was having such difficulty finding a sitter, I was this close to cutting it myself. I looked it up on YouTube and it seemed so easy! But Husband said “For the love of God, no.” I do trim my bangs myself, and since they look like a child took their construction paper scissors to them, I admitted the man may have a point. When I got to the salon, I instructed — keep the bangs, keep the hair long, keep the layers, but take away some of this Liberace fullness, the salon lady dutifully fulfilled my request. She thinned it all out and I felt quite relieved, but today at work, I caught myself in the work bathroom mirror and realized…I kind of have…a mullet. Oh the calamity!

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