Yesterday I had so much hair cut off that I swear I lost weight in the process. I looked at the floor afterwards. It looked like someone had killed an animal-and no small animal at that. Maybe 15 years of my image, lying on the floor in one big, brassy heap. I don't know what posessed me to do it. I didn't even cry (I've heard people with long hair do that when it's taken off.) I just walked in, leafed through a catalogue, showed her a ballpark figure of what I was looking for, and off it came, with a razor and some scissors. Before she started she brushed out my hair murmuring, "such nice hair, very healthy...so shiny." All I could think was, "I'll be done with it soon. You can keep it if you like." We kept the magazine open to the picture I'd chosen. Only after about half an hour into the cutting did I realize that it was a catalogue of celebrity hair cuts...and that the one I had chosen was a blonde version of Tiffany Amber Theissen. I do not look anything like Tiffany Amber Theissen. Not then, not now. We do not have the same hair cut, at all. But whatever happened in there...was good. There are *parts* of the haircut that I don't like (I have a form of bangs, for instance) but nothing that can't be remedied without some well-placed bobby pins. Soo :::deep breathe::: I think this is the start of something new.

But I think next time I'll try to donate to the American Cancer Society...I certainly had enough extra...

But it's all right, 'cause I'm saved by the...it's all right, 'cause I'm saved by the... iiiit's alllll right! 'cause I'm saved by the bell...