Don't do unto yourself what you wouldn't want your worst enemies do to you! That is the morale of the day, lesson learnt on my own skin, or hair, rather.
Today was Sunday. As every Sunday, I resolved to work hard all day to make up for all the procrastination I comitted during the week. I slept until noon, just so as to have plenty of energy for all that hard work ahead. Just as I was about to grab a hold of that energy and buckle down, I was informed by Kris that we are to have lunch with Fran and Jen. Well, naturally, one has to eat. We ventured out after 2pm, as ladies had a late breakfast. Our speedy return was obstructed by ill-meaning rain. We had to hide in Litte Tibet - a store with gorgeous clothes and jewelry. An hour later we were leaving with bags full of shirts, jewelry (got a bracelet that covers entire back of the hand and ends in three rings... a toe ring, nose ring, blouse, possibly more, who knows). Not even twenty meters into our resumed journey the downpour halted our steps again. Into the Taste of Culture we ran. Two sets of earrings later (another hour or so), we set out again. This time we made it.
I was about to start working, but I decided to post new photos on my MSN groups website first. I mean, might as well... it is Sunday, when else would I get to it. Then I browsed through some of the old pictures I have up there. Came across old family photos and admired my mother's sixties' haircut. I've been playing with my bangs for a few weeks now. Cut a tiny bit, then just a wee bit more, a smidget here, a smidget there... But these were some serious bangs. I am wanting serious bangs. I got hold of scissors on the table. After all, this will only take five minutes at most, right? I make a straight line with a comb, pull the hair down over my eyes, and cut a straight line below eyebrows. I know hair wil jump up, I am smart that way. It looks kinda silly. Maybe I didn't take enough hair. So I make another line higher up, cut again. Still looks kinda silly. I go look at Jen. She has bangs, let's see how those are done. Ah, I see. It's not a straight line exactly, it is gradual. Top hair is shorter, bottom longer. I need layering. Hurrah.
Another hour later, I keep trimming a strand of hair here and there. By now my dresser and part of the floor are covered with locks of my hair. Eh, I'm trying to get rid of the old color anyway, I'm thinking. When my hairdo approximates a bald eagles' nest (not that I've ever seen one, but honestly right now I really do not need to), I give up. After all, I'm no hairdresser. When I put a headband in my hair, it almost looks like bangs. A little disilusioned, I choose to watch the fourth Hayao Miyazaki movie in a row. I need consolation, that's understandable. We watch Nausicaa. With bonus features, it brings us well past 1am. Oh. So much for a work packed Sunday. I am stared down by a wastebasket full of my hair. I suppose I should tie little ribbons on the locks of the hair I cut and send them out to people for good luck. For inspiration. They will say to people: "If you look at me, you shall prosper and your work will be a success. Just remember Dasha. Never be as stupid as she is. You can do better than that. You would never cut your hair with paper scissors. You can do great things and be a shining beacon to others." Well, there is something good in everything bad. I am glad I serve as a bad example. The world will be a better place for it.
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