behold the power of hair

Last Friday, after a pleasant, slightly shortened work day, I headed down to my favorite barber shop for a much needed trim. As I had hoped, a friend of mine was working. She asked me what I wanted. About to say "Just trim it back up like before," I found myself saying. "I don't know. What do you think?" This was soon followed by the somewhat risky "Sure. Do whatever you want."

And the rock star haircut was born. Now, you've got to understand, this is big stuff for me. If it can't be done in less than ten minutes and/or doesn't involve a ponytail holder, I probably won't do it. I probably can't do it. In those crucial, formative junior high years when girls learn these skills, I was busy doing other things. Like reading. And archery. And getting grass stains on all my pants.

So when my friend styled my hair (It seemed like she used half a can of hairspray) and released me from the spinny-chair, I felt a little different. Stylish. Sassy. I went home and even snapped couple pics to show my family--who I think experienced a little private dismay during my archery and oversized clothing years.

Then I couldn't handle the hair in my face any longer and clipped a big piece of it back. Even rock stars have limitations.