I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. About my hair. About how I’ve always wanted to do something drastic with it, but never had the guts.

Back in January, I chopped my hair. It was my first REAL haircut since before Aric was born. I loved it, but it wasn’t a huge risk for me. I’d had that haircut PLENTY of times in the past. What I’d really wanted was something REALLY short. Pixie short. But I didn’t have the guts.

Fast forward to yesterday. I’d been poking around Google trying to find cute, short hair styles. My Pinterest board started filling up with cute hair styles. I narrowed it down to a favorite.

Then, as the Fates would have it, I located a gift card to a local salon with $20 still on it. Add that to the GC to the same place my sister gave me for my birthday, it was like the world was BEGGING me to cut my hair!

So yesterday I called to set up an appointment for this week. Only they were able to get me in right that day. With a stylist who specializes in short, funky hair styles.

When 5:45 came rolling around, my heart was positively racing. I knew this was what I wanted, but it’s still scary! What if I can’t pull it off? What if it’s totally ugly? What if I look like a 42 year old with four kids who drives a mini-van??

I sat down in the chair looking like this:

I gave my stylist my inspiration photo, which was this:

My stylist and I talked for a good 15 minutes. We chatted about different styles, levels of drama, levels of change. She wanted me to go full on Victoria Beckham: super short on one side, longer on the other, wicked short in the back. But I wasn’t ready for that yet. I wanted something to gently break me into the world of short hair, and if I liked it, we’d bend it like Beckham … or something.

So she started. As larger and larger strands of my hair were falling, she kept asking me if I was OK. I was. Mostly. “We’re doing it!” she’d say. “We’re going balls to the wall. Balls to the wall, sister!”

Through the process I wavered between I LOVE IT and OMG I LOOK LIKE A 42 YEAR OLD and I LOVE IT AGAIN! But I knew once it was completely done and styled, I’d love it.

And then she finished. I was in complete shock. I had bangs. BANGS! The last time I had bangs my mom would curl them with a huge barrel curling iron, then tease those suckers up to next week. Tim has never known me with bangs.

I. Am. In. Love.

(Please excuse the quality. Cell phones, they aren’t DSLRs!)

Yeah. That’s right. I’ve joined the ranks of short hair owners. I’m still a little worried that I look like a 42 year old with 4 kids and a mini-van, but mostly, I love it.

The only issue is that Aric has been with his grandparents for the last couple days. I don’t think he’ll recognize me when he comes home!!

(Image source)