Indisputable evidence of me desperately needing a haircut. Bangs, highlights, layers, everything. I haven't been to the beautician in well over a year and let me tell you, not only are my roots starting to look gross, I can't even tell where my part is supposed to be or whether I still have bangs.
Off the top of my head, the only one time I remember having gone this long without any beautician intervention was after months and months of back-and-forthing between India, Sri Lanka and Malaysia [ah those were the days], on a rather crazy schedule. Then suddenly back on American soil [LAX], a 24-hour layover and a rental car later I gave the beautician the "everything dead goes" instruction and voila, walked out of the salon looking like a million bucks. Breakfast in Beverly Hills, a cruise through downtown LA, a night sandwiched between the crisp sheets of the Hilton complete with room service and a bubble bath, then a connecting flight back home for a couple of months before taking off for Asia again.