A Stylist I am not.

I got a haircut this weekend. Nothing major, just needed a trim because I had like six inch split ends. For reals.

I’m not the only one who got a trim though. The purple flower plants (yes, I’m pretty sure that’s their scientific name) in our front bed have been growing out of control for quite a while now. They were getting really tall and had begun to take over the sidewalk. We’ve been saying for weeks that we needed to trim them. So today while Nathan was out mowing/trimming/edging/making sweet love to his prized lawn, I got out the pruners and decided to go for it. This is where it gets ugly. Let’s just say I was a little over-zealous.

I was under the impression that we didn’t want the plants to be so tall, but Nathan thought they just shouldn’t be so (for a lack of a better word) fat. So after I had trimmed down two of the plants and significantly reduced their height, Nathan suggested I might be getting a little too excited with the pruners and perhaps I should just stick with trimming the sides and not the tops. So that’s what I did with the next two. But now our front bed looks like this:

It’s a little hard to tell from this photo just how butchered these poor plants are, so you’ll just have to trust me when I say that it resembles a haircut that a toddler might give to herself when mom turns her back. The only saving grace is that these suckers grow really big, really fast, so this little mishap shouldn’t last too long.

If I ever offer to cut your hair, you should run in the opposite direction.

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