A New 'Do
Carly was born with a lot of hair--and that may even be an understatement.
I think she could have been the poster child for some sort of hair product at the ripe age of six months. She was born with straight hair, but somewhere along the way, it turned into a head of curls. Strangers would comment at stores, "Oh, she looks like a little Shirley Temple!"
J gave her a trim at 6 months and then at 13 months, she got another trim from my mom's hairstylist. This trim was more of a cut, though--she came home looking like Dorothy Hammil (not quite that short, but it was much shorter than it had been).
For the past months, I've been thinking to myself, "Carly's hair is out of control--she needs a trim." She would mostly wear it in a ponytail--not so much because she asked, but because it bothered me for her when I saw her continually push her hair out of her face when she played. That would have driven me crazy if it was my hair--did I ever tell you how when I was eight or nine, my hair was always falling in my face, so I took matters into my own hands? I marched into the kitchen, retrieved the scissors, marched back to my room and "trimmed" my hair.
Insta-bangs.
Big mistake.
But, I digress.
So, Carly's hair--it needed a trim. So, I took her to my hairstylist.
I think I had just as much fun as Carly. You can't really tell in the pictures, but she enjoyed sitting in the chair and looking at herself in the mirror. We had to keep telling her to move her head a certain way; she was so curious as to what was happening with her hair.
Although my hairstylist mainly trimmed it and took some weight out of the back ("shaping" it, as she called it)--it made a world of difference.
Both mom and daughter were happy. Mom, because daughter's hair no longer looked like Willie Nelson's (not that there's anything wrong with his hair)--and daughter, because she got a sucker at the end of it all.
I think she could have been the poster child for some sort of hair product at the ripe age of six months. She was born with straight hair, but somewhere along the way, it turned into a head of curls. Strangers would comment at stores, "Oh, she looks like a little Shirley Temple!"
J gave her a trim at 6 months and then at 13 months, she got another trim from my mom's hairstylist. This trim was more of a cut, though--she came home looking like Dorothy Hammil (not quite that short, but it was much shorter than it had been).
For the past months, I've been thinking to myself, "Carly's hair is out of control--she needs a trim." She would mostly wear it in a ponytail--not so much because she asked, but because it bothered me for her when I saw her continually push her hair out of her face when she played. That would have driven me crazy if it was my hair--did I ever tell you how when I was eight or nine, my hair was always falling in my face, so I took matters into my own hands? I marched into the kitchen, retrieved the scissors, marched back to my room and "trimmed" my hair.
Insta-bangs.
Big mistake.
But, I digress.
So, Carly's hair--it needed a trim. So, I took her to my hairstylist.
I think I had just as much fun as Carly. You can't really tell in the pictures, but she enjoyed sitting in the chair and looking at herself in the mirror. We had to keep telling her to move her head a certain way; she was so curious as to what was happening with her hair.
Although my hairstylist mainly trimmed it and took some weight out of the back ("shaping" it, as she called it)--it made a world of difference.
Both mom and daughter were happy. Mom, because daughter's hair no longer looked like Willie Nelson's (not that there's anything wrong with his hair)--and daughter, because she got a sucker at the end of it all.
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