In theory, I love the pixie cut. It's bold, it's great for summer, and it's easy.
However. I have a lot of the whole do I look like a boy?
I was carrying laundry upstairs on Sunday, and there's a mirror on the landing, and I caught this flash of myself, and I suddenly had this, oh, God, it's like when I was a kid and that one hairdresser in North Dakota cut off all my hair and the neighbor kids asked my mom if her little boy could play with them.
And now I have wear lipstick and dresses every moment until I have more hair. Crap.
So I set the basket down on the bed, where Nick was reading intently.
"Do you think I look like a boy?"
"You're not even looking."
"I think you're beautiful."
"C'mon. Look. Boy?"
"How about now? What if I turn my face this way?"
"If I clench my fist and sneer like Billy Idol?"
"How about if I stick a pair of socks down the front of my pants? What about now?"
"I like your hair. Please give me my socks."