Wispies

New haircut. It was either that or remain a long-haired shaggy for the remainder of the heat of summer.

I think I like it. Although spending all my spare time figuring out how to style my hair screams too much femininity for me. Yesterday was one style, the day before it was two different ones. Today I've decided a pony works.

Really would have loved the hair styling talent for myself and the three other heads of hair I have to worry about each day. But, alas, there are worse things I could be left without.

I might have to break down and buy hairspray and other product. I hear they work magic. My moral compass of beauty not being defined by looks is being swayed by my hair and its needs. Ironic.

Did I mention I cut bangs for the third time in my life? I know it's been a mid-life crisis year, but bangs?

Knowing my disdain, but reassuring me they would be perfectly lying to one side, the hair stylist suggested we call them wispies. Bangs or wispies, they are all over the place! Calm wispies. Calm before I threaten to spray you with sticky stuff and pin you back with a bobby.

I guess if a new job, or a Masters is currently out of the question, I might as well have new hair.

Is it too much to want it natural, without any to do from me? Without anything but shampoo, conditioner, a comb through and air? My shag did that for me.

I'll hold out for some wispie magic.