An ode to restraint

It all began innocently enough. It always does. But one false move, and now I must wear the consequences for a long time.

Literally.

I’m not sure why I decided it was a good idea to trim those nasty dry bits on the ends of my hair. I suppose I figured that a few well placed snips, and several millimetres of lost dead ends, and I would start the day feeling much sleeker.

It wasn’t really that initial decision that was the problem. It was the subsequent one involving ‘neatening’ one of my side layers. (Which, I might add, was poorly cut by a very expensive stylist and has been bothering me ever since.)

It was merely a small, diagonal incision, designed to rectify the unsightly imbalance.

Dang.

It wasn’t meant to look like that. I’ll just make a few more adjustments until I get it looking right… a slippery slope, indeed.

Oh come on, Trina! Why did you start this ridiculous process? You saw what you did to your own Barbies in 1983!!!

I know I shouldn’t play hairdresser (which may, or may not, be evidence that I have made similar attempts to cut my own hair in the past). I just assumed it would all be okay this time.

Some things, once done, can never be undone. A hand raised in anger. Spiteful words said aloud. The decision to get behind the wheel after a few drinks. Trimming your own hair.

I find practising self control tedious. I never did it well. But I am learning that a moment of uncomfortable restraint can avert the pain of a thousand needles in your eye. Thankfully my hair will grow back in time, unlike some things that I’ve wrecked in the past. Until then, I’m planning on tilting my head slightly to the right to give the illusion of balance.

I’m not looking forward to explaining this at the salon.