the power in a pair of scissors

Okay, so on the weekend I had an incident. Not a major one... I am ok, the Pickles clan is fine, but a big enough incident to cast a gloomy shadow over my weekend and this week.

See, my favourite hairdresser in the world is no longer cutting hair. It's devastating. But her hanging up the scissors and my turning into a gloriously round pregnant woman were beautifully timed, as I had decided that when I had a newborn it would be most practical if I could just pull my hair back into an elastic band and be done with it. And, I have to say, it was easy. But I am a short hair kinda gal, and ready to spend some time on the styling that comes with short hair.

So, on the weekend, with the football (soccer) season finished and Mr Pickles home on the Saturday, I decided to leave the Gherkin at home and go out and get my hair cut. At a new salon. On the new side of the city. With a new cutter. It was a wee bit anxiety-provoking! But I told myself all would be well, armed myself with three photos - one of me with my hair at its best (around the time my summer pickles profile photo was taken), one of a brilliant haircut I love (below), and one of Vicki Howell whose fringe I adore.



And I asked that the hairdresser do something fun, uneven, chunky, but thinned out so my hair doesn't go in a triangle. Sadly, I didn't get anything fun, chunky, or even remotely interesting... instead I got a long layered bob (which you can see here). It is a lovely long layered bob, but I didn't go in looking for a long layered bob... (maybe I should not have told her I had just become a mum?)

So what to do?

I hated it. Mr Pickles told me (very gently) that it looked like a blend of a schoolgirl and an old lady haircut. So I had two choices really... 1. go back to the hairdresser who cut it in the first place and ask her to cut it again, or 2. risk it with someone else. I have opted for choice number one, but this time, need to take the Gherkin (which could be a whole other story!).

(Wish me luck...)