The boyfriend had just downloaded some photos from his new camera. We were sitting on the couch, looking through them on the laptop. There were some amusing shots of me putting groceries away. Ha! Look! There I am putting the milk in the fridge! Now I'm putting some cereal away! I can barely reach that top shelf! And then I noticed it. My hair.
"Thank GOD I'm getting a haircut tomorrow!"
"You don't need a haircut."
"Did you not just look at that photo? My hair looks like a hairy overgrown helmet!"
[Placing his hand at a height between his shoulder and his ear] "I liked it better when it was this length."
"DO YOU NOT LIKE MY HAIR?!"
So yeah. I kind of lost it. And then I quickly calmed down. It's not that he said anything wrong, per se. He was being honest. But it's a little devastating when you find a hairstyle you kind of like that makes dealing with the moster that lives on your head sort of manageable, and then your significant other happens to mention that he kind of liked it better the way it was before.
It is MY hair, and while he does have to look at it, I have to live with it. So when I finally sat down in the stylist's chair and she asked what we were doing with the hair this time, I practically yelled at her, "CUT IT SHORTER!"
© Whitney Brandt-Hiatt: All writing, images, and photogrpahy are the property of Whitney Brandt-Hiatt unless otherwise noted.
![\"\"](\"http://static.flickr.com/96/220810683_e53ed5441d.jpg\")