Last Wednesday didn’t start out well; I hadn’t slept much the night before and woke up looking decidedly haggard. I had errands to run and wanted to get them done before lunch, so I left the house with unwashed, bed-headed hair. That was my first mistake.

After our first errand, I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror and made a snap decision. I would go get a haircut. I didn’t call Rachael, my regular stylist who has been cutting my hair for almost four years. Oh no, I quickly scanned the available strip-mall options and decided to pull into BoRics.  And let someone NEW cut my hair. That was my second mistake.

Shelly was very nice, chatted with Kaitlyn while getting me shampooed and ready in the chair. “So”, she said, “what are you looking to have done today?”

“Well”, I said, heaving a big sigh at my reflection, “reshape the layers and trim the ends”.  (hello, mistake number four)

Now, I’m not questioning Shelly’s skills. She was efficient and thorough in her work.  Snip snip snip snip snip THIS IS MUCH BETTER snip snip snip.

Finally she was finished, ran her hands through my hair one last time to fluff it up, then spun me around to face the mirror.

OH MY HOLY HELL WHAT HAVE I DONE?

When I told my friend Lisa about it, I told her that the stylist had made me look like this:

But, the more I looked at it, poked and prodded at it in the mirror in a pointless attempt to, I don’t know, REGROW MY HAIR, the more I looked at it the more I realized exactly who I now look like, if you substitute dark blonde hair for brunette:

I really wish I wasn’t kidding.  I know, it’s just HAIR, but dammit, I really learned my lesson about not being impulsive. I suppose you want to see a picture. I’ve been avoiding cameras, but Chris caught the side of my head here. Sigh. It’s only hair…It’s only hair…