I really want a haircut.
In a perfect world, I would look fabulous with a pixie cut... but no such luck.
The funny and slightly sad thing is that ever since I can remember, even when I was in elementary school, I've always wanted to get a pixie cut. Like, super short. This might stem from when I once actually had a pixie cut, before it grew out. It was in kindergarten and 1st grade, and everyone mistook me for a boy. I loved it. Classmates would come from behind and ask, "Mitch?" and then I'd turn around frowning and they'd say, "Whoops! Sorry! Never mind, Genevieve!" and I acted frustrated but it was all a show. Maybe, with my child's logic, I was trying to challenge gender stereotypes. And maybe not. Maybe I just liked that short hair took two minutes to wash, as opposed to the ten or so I spend on it now; maybe I liked it when all I had to do was ruffle my hair and be done with it in the morning, without any fuss with brushes and tangles; and maybe all of these reasons stem from laziness.
The point is, none of that matters because I'm not getting a pixie. My hair length will never go above my chin, and at this point the outlook is that it will be somewhere at or slightly above my collarbone.
One day I will definitely get a pixie, and when that day comes I will go into exile until it grows to a length that society deems appropriate. In the meantime, I'd love every second of those gloriously short showers.