1st Haircut

Charlotte's lack of hair is legendary around here. It's caused every old lady in the Capital District to insist upon calling her "him" or "lil fella" at the grocery store for the past two years regardless of how much hot pink she's been draped in. (For reference: Charlotte at 1, Charlotte at 2)

It's a family legacy actually. I was similarly bald, and the old ladies used Hair As Gender Marker as much back then as they do now. This prompted my mom to get into a yelling match with one such biddie who wouldn't budge in her "she's a boy" stance. Luckily for her, my mom out-crazied her ass, ripped off my diaper and showed her the goods. Oh, you wanna get crazy with me, ya old bitch?!! I'll SEE your crazy and RAISE you a vagina! You can't out-crazy a crazy, people, don't even try.

So the last few months Charlotte's hair had grown out enough to at least qualify as a pixie cut. Strangers went from calling her a boy to complimenting me on how much they LOVED her short hair and how it was So darling! and So Parisian! But then we rounded the hobo corner a few weeks ago and I decided that we needed to take the plunge and get her her first haircut.



BEFORE:

 I call this Homeless Chic

Emulating The Beatles

DURING:

She wasn't pissed, she was just taking the process very seriously. She had the same expression the whole time she was dying Easter eggs.

AFTER: