Give me head with hair, long beautiful ha-air

So it's been awhile. Sorry.

When I was in second grade, I got my hair cut. The style at the time was the bobbed look, and my stylist decided that this would be perfect for a 7 year old with chubby cheeks. Also, in an attempt to be "hip" and "chic", she cut one side shorter than the other (I have no explanation for this other than it was 1987). Needless to say, the short bobbed look did not work with my swollen face and I could never, ever get the hair to line up perfectly....I always had a few stragglers on one side that we supposed to be parted to the other side. I was so traumatized by the entire episode that I really have not had my hair cut short since. Until now.

My salon decided to do a Locks for Love event in connection with Valentine's Day. They needed 10 inches of hair for the wigs. So I had a secretary in my office get out a ruler and we measured my hair. I had more than enough:

See? Just like Polamalu. And more than enough to spare. Ten inches went right to my shoulders, which is short (for me) but no where near the disasterous shortness of '87. So I made my appointment and went in.

The whole thing was televised on a local morning show. My stylist was nervous, and it is never a good idea for the lady with the scissors to be nervous. She divided my hair into four sections and made a ponytail of 10 inches long. Then she cut off the ponytails. It was heartbreaking to see my 10 inches of hair sitting on the counter. But my sadness turned to panic as the stylist continued to cut. And cut. And cut. And cut. And cut. I wanted to scream out "For the love of God, honey, please stop cutting or I won't have any left!!!!"

When the carnage was over, this is all that was left of my hair:

No, I was not happy. It's second grade all over again.