First Haircut

After literally months of debate and continual comments about how Alina looks like a shaggy dog when she wakes up, we finally took her to get her first haircut. And it was the most anti-climactic thing in recent memory. It was one of these places that has little cars for seats, stuffed animals to hold, stickers to stick, and DVD players in front of every chair to ensure complete distraction while the Barbizon graduate wields her tungsten steel around my child's earlobes and eyeballs. The stylist basically took her first row of bangs, cut them to over the eyebrow, and tied the rest back. The End. $15 please. They even saved the trimmings in a little plastic crack vial with a pink top, just for us. But they barely cut enough to see. Not exactly the lock of hair we were expecting. But I paid close attention. Why? Because I'm totally doing this next time. All parents cut their kids hair, mostly badly. But I think Alina is rockin a fairly simple style that can be reproduced with my eyes closed.

Before:



After:



My mother kept my hair fairly long. Dutch boy-esque, even. People thought I was a girl for about 3 years until I got lice and it had to be cut off when I was in first grade. I don't really know if my hair was kept long because of my mother's skill, the fact that it was 1982, or that my mother's fear of kidnappers left her wanting to take me to the ladies room instead of letting me go into the men's room alone. This is my...er...daughter, Athena. I didn't mind the girly moniker. After all, I was given full access to the YMCA women's locker room. You're never too young to learn about the carpet matching the drapes.