may 4 inches of my hair rest in peace.

here's some lessons that i've learned about hair, impulse decisions, and flighty teenage girls...

|| just because you had a fat day that lasted seventy-two hours too long, doesn't mean you should go and get a hair cut from a crappy hair school at nine at night.

|| never trust a girl who when asked so, when did you graduate from high school? answers 'twelve.' not 2012, not last year or recently but 'twelve.' perhaps she is thousands of years old and is just trying to hide it?

|| when the same girl who just might be pulling a tuck everlasting on you audibly expresses her disdain for the haircut and her worry about getting it even all around, just leave. just cut the small talk about her boyfriend who won't commit, get up, and leave...uneven hair and all.

|| the fact that no one around your hair stylist can remember her name is probably a sure-sign that she's a newbie. or just plain sucks...which she does.

|| ...in the end, just grab the instructor and whisper to her that you're feeling a little uneasy about everything and can you please just finish it up? then lie to your stylist when she comes back and tell her that this was the best hair cut ever! i loved it! and you! and there is no apparent reason why your boyfriend doesn't want to make any real commitment to you! you seem as stable as your hands were while you were cutting zig-zags in my head! 

...was i ranting there?

|| never trust a lexie.