Fashion police

So I did it.

I chopped a good six inches off my hair on Saturday and added a few extra highlights for fun.

So, “Why no picture, Mrs. Break-Your-Promise-Head?”

Because, while I like it, I don’t loooove it. It’s good, but I think it could better.

The problem is I don’t think my hairdresser thought I was cool enough for some of the cuts that I had cut out of mags. So rather than go to town with her razor, she just did a few routine strokes through my hair … which made it cute, but not cutting edge.

So it’s a nice change, but it’s left me wanting. Which is why I’ll spend the rest of today standing in front of the mirror and/or making a pro/con list of whether I should go back to the salon for additional snipping.

Pro: It doesn’t make me look fat.
Con: It definitely says “bob.”

But the sad reality is people just don’t consider me to be worthy of anything edgy or fashion-forward these days. No matter how cute and eclectic I dress to fool my stylist.

I had my heyday.

Back in middle school, I was the frequent victim of fashion taunting, although for some reason I managed to be cool regardless. (Probably because my partner in crime and I were too loud and wacky to be pegged as losers.)

There was the time that we discovered a bag of plastic barrettes on sales at the dollar store and began to clip several randomly in our hair. Not a year later, those barrettes were popular prom hair wear … and a total precursor to the bobby-pin hair craze still sweeping the nation.

We wore vintage on a daily basis. We sported flip-flops when most people still wore Flojos. We practically created the "other people's vacations" T-shirt phenomenon.

In college, I went a little more mainstream in terms of my clothing sources – suddenly the Gap wasn’t so bourgeoisie– but continued to stay ahead of trends by layering before it was cool and predicting the cowboy craze a good two years in advance.

Then, I went a mission for my church ... and I got a little behind, seeing as third-world countries aren't a hotbed of haute couture.

And while I managed to catch up some upon my return, I promptly got married and fat, which I don’t recommend if you’re considering doing it – getting fat, not married, of course. Because when you’re fat, not only can you not find hip clothes in your size, but you are reluctant to shop or draw any extra attention to your body.

Now that I’ve lost 33 pounds, I’m starting to get back into shopping.

But can I ever recapture my style radar?

Will I ever be ahead of fashion or doomed to follow it like a lovesick fool?

And will I ever, ever convince someone that I’m worthy of a crazy haircut?

Or is this all just a part of getting old?

What about you? Are your more or less fashionable now than you were when you were younger? Do you shop at stores you never would have considered, or are you pickier now?

Do tell.