If I Can't See It ... Is It Really There?

I just finished fighting with my hair again this morning.

After my worst-haircut-in-recent-history (9 weeks ago) ... and finally the hairdresser-that-saved-my-sanity (3 weeks ago) who performed miracles with my emergency-haircut-in-Calgary-while-we-were-on-holidays ... I can finally, finally control my hair (somewhat).

Every time I wash it, I cringe at the thought of fighting the never ending battle to control the ultra-short-hair-on-the-top-of-my-head. I am managing. There are still stressful moments as I wage war with my hair, but for the most part ... I'm winning the battle.

Then, this morning ... I got brave and took a hand held mirror so that I could look at the back of my head. It was the wavy-wonky-look, if I ever saw one. I was deflated.

I walked away from the mirror (I hate mirrors) thinking - 'If I can't see it ... is it really there?'