Today at 3:00, it was well past my shoulders.
And at 3:30, it was not.
I went to the salon, plopped down in the chair, said, "I want to cut eight inches," and sat back to enjoy the ride.
Originally, I'd set out to grow a nice wig for Locks of Love. I began rethinking this right around the time the weather started to change. See, LoL requires ten inches of hair for its wigs; I could maaaaaaaaaybe eke out nine, if I didn't mind getting a Moe.
As it turns out, I DO mind.
Also, for the past week, I have gone to school with wet hair; it just DOES NOT DRY. I mean, it probably could if I committed more than five minutes to the hair dryer, but I need those five minutes to
Several months ago, Hilary Swank let Oprah cut her hair for Pantene. They only require eight inches. I could totally do that!
My better self, who doesn't often get a chance to speak, told me that I could stick it out for another month and get a good, quality nine-and-a-half inches to give to the wig-makers. But my other self, the one who's tired of carrying all this hair around and spending billions of dollars on shampoo and whipping herself in the face with her ponytail--that self refused to wait another second.
I went over to my parents' house to show off my new haircut, and here's how observant my dad is: he didn't even notice until I practically shoved my disenheaded ponytail into his hand. "DAD," I said, "You looked me straight in the face!"
"I know," he replied. Old people, geez.
"It feels ... kinda gross," he said, which is exactly what I said when I picked it up off the counter at the salon. It's very weird, handling hair that's not connected to a head. It just doesn't feel right.
I would like to turn your attention to the thickness of my (former) ponytail.
It was a lot of hair for my neck to be holding up all day, is what I'm saying.
And now it's gone. Am I sad?