So, on a hot and slow Wednesday, in a fit of...insanity, craziness, boredom, whatever you want to call it...I grabbed a pair of scrapbooking (?!?) scissors, stood in front of the bathroom mirror, and started hacking. It looks so easy on TV. You know when people want to change their identity because they are on the run from someone and they cut their hair in a dingy motel room, sometimes with a razor, and it looks as if it had been cut and styled by a professional? That's because it has been cut and styled by a professional. Either that or it is a wig. Well, in my case, it was neither. It was shaggy and uneven, and really, REALLY, short! This is the photo I took of me.
Well, I realized what I had done and ran upstairs just as Matt and Lily came inside. I quickly pulled it back, but Matt knew immediately what happened, because I had been talking about getting my hair cut for a while. He was surprisingly calm, suggesting only slightly firmly that I should go somewhere to even it up. I went to get my shoes, and he followed me downstairs, just in case I should happen to find another pair of scissors laying around. I didn't, and I luckily found a really good place just up the street from us that was willing to squeeze me in. The stylist, Mallorie, did a great job. She said I wasn't the first one that had attempted a self-makeover, but that next time, I should leave things to the professionals.