The Miracle Worker

Jack and I got our back to school haircuts today. We pretty much get the same cuts every time. Not very exciting, but it's efficient, at least.

For years I went back and forth between long and short hair, but I think I've pretty much settled on short for the foreseeable future. It makes driving in the Wrangler with the roof off so much easier.

The first time I went from long hair to short was in college after a perm went terribly wrong. I'd been swimming a lot, and apparently I had just enough chlorine buildup in my hair to keep the perm from taking evenly.

The only solution was to go short. Which was fine until I went to Washington, D.C. for an internship a few months later and had to find someone to cut my hair. One of my roommates went to a walk-in place near our apartment and came back with a cute cut, so I thought I'd try it out. Big mistake. And when hair is already short, there isn't much margin for error. It was so bad I couldn't bear the thought of waiting until it grew out.

I needed a miracle.

Luckily I found one: Christoph at Bubbles on Capitol Hill. He gasped a terrible gasp when he saw me, clucked with sympathy, then worked his magic. Oh, how my young vulnerable self-conscious self loved him. Thank you, dahling!