We Call This The Curly Bob

I’ve been thinking about doing it for a while now, but I was scared.

It wasn’t that I was unhappy with how things were. I was content. Fine even. And everyone else assured me that things were great.

But still… I was restless. I couldn’t help but wonder if things could be better.

Maybe not even better. Sometimes it isn’t about better. Sometimes it’s just about different. Sometimes different is enough to excite you again.

But what about the risks? What if it wasn’t as good as I imagined? What if I realized that different wasn’t better only after it was too late?

I needed a guinea pig.

ANYway, I convinced my mother – who loves her naturally curly, strawberry blond hair more than popcorn – that she was long past due to chop it all off.

Thank you GOD that she loves it. And I think she looks pretty damn cute. Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly how I had imagined it in my own head on my own head.

Blah blah blah, yada yada yada, we all know where this is going.

I chopped my hair off.

(I know I said I was taking a hiatus until Monday, and I am. But, well, um – I got my hair cut!! So. There.)

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