I am addicted to picking my split ends. Seriously, addicted.
I was just a little 14 year old innocently sitting on the bus when the "girl who shall not be named" enlightened me to the world of split ends. that was in 8th grade, I'm in my third year of college people! You do the math.
After much thought I have come to a conclusion. Either buzz my head military style, keep my hair up for the rest of my life, or find some major willpower to STOP. Personally, I like the 1st option. A nice clean (fuzzy) start. However I believe small children would scream if they saw my giant deformed hairless head. Option 1 out. Option 2 could work I just may look (more) like a homeless boy. Option 2 canceled. Therefore, I must find my innermost willpower. If this option doesn't work I will be a bald boy by my 23rd birthday. Great.
To help me through this I ask you all one thing. If you see me picking my hair please slap me in the face. Hard.
I will forever blame it on the "girl who shall not be named". Its completely and totally her fault.
Thank you for the support.
-Kenz
Side note: I may also be addicted to watching people. But we will have to save creeper rehab for another day.
I have noticed this K Hall. We all have our habits.
ReplyDeleteHahaha this takes me back to young womens. When you first went on this will power kick. And you had me slap your hands every time I caught you picking them. Which I did. Hard.
ReplyDeleteObviously it worked.