Hair she goes again!

If you don't want to hear me ramble on and on again about my hair then I'm giving you fair warning. You can click away now.

But if you do, then here goes.

I've written at length about my hair and getting it sort of cut and getting it sort of cut again. And some of you are probably wondering if I'm just getting my hair cut to have something to blog about.

But I can assure you, if I needed something to blog about, I would go to Wal-Mart and just let nature take it's course.

In my endless quest to have a cute and sassy hair style, I went back to my hair stylist again this morning. And I know deep in my heart of hearts, I want an inverted bob.

I don't want one quite as extreme as Posh Spice's. To pull off a bob as inverted as hers you have to be 80 pounds soaking wet. And apparently, you aren't allowed to smile either.

Because, really, what's she got to smile about anyway?

So, I want an inverted bob. But I'm also a big, big chicken.

So my sweet hair stylist is helping me get to where I want to be by holding my hand and taking me there very slowly.

And after today's visit, this is where we are now...

I like to call this bob, the "barely,sort-of, almost inverted bob". Or the "inverted bob for big chickens".

And this picture is making me wonder when my nose became so protrusive. Does this happen in old age or is this just a product of my new, barely-sort-of inverted-just-for-big-chickens bob?

Hmmm...and it looks like both sides aren't cut quiet the same. Oh, well. Any adjustments will have to wait until my next visit in six weeks.

So, there you have it. My new sort-of do.

And at the rate I'm going, in roughly two years, I will have the inverted bob I have always dreamed of, right about the time that inverted bobs have become so 2007.

And with that, I leave you with one last image because my son found my college mortarboard and thought I should be photographed wearing it and because my arms look so freakishly thin...

Eat your hearts out, Posh Spice and David Beckham!