I just tried to trim the back of my hair myself. Blind. With a pair of kitchen scissors. Whilst talking to Granny who was making gravy in the kitchen and couldn't see what I was doing behind her back or she would have immediately stopped me.
I literally want to stab myself now with the same hair stained kitchen scissors. Hannah from Girls has it backwards. You get ill because you cut your hair yourself, not the other way round.
I did it because the ends of my new 'do were becoming ever so slightly plaitable. Just like two times plaited, "cross hair, cross hair", not a full plait.
And now all I can think of is how Alex jokily pronounces plait. Like fat. Plllllllllaaaat. Yuk. That makes me feel more sick.
Luckily our meat loaf lunch will hopefully distract me by clogging up all my tear ducts with butter. If my hands are full of forked up mash potato I can't repetitively and obsessively touch the mauled uneven ends on my poor neck. It's like looking at a dead swan now. An elegant neck gone to waste.
I literally want to stab myself now with the same hair stained kitchen scissors. Hannah from Girls has it backwards. You get ill because you cut your hair yourself, not the other way round.
I did it because the ends of my new 'do were becoming ever so slightly plaitable. Just like two times plaited, "cross hair, cross hair", not a full plait.
And now all I can think of is how Alex jokily pronounces plait. Like fat. Plllllllllaaaat. Yuk. That makes me feel more sick.
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