That time I cut 9 inches off my hair

I've been wanting to cut my hair for awhile now, but I also had the hopes of donating it. This week I was left in a pickle: either cut my hair pretty dang short to get the required 8 inches to donate, keep growing it out and put up with the tangles and mess for a few more months, or just cut it and not donate. 

I went with the first one.

And it's pretty dang short.

I made up my mind quickly and walked into the hair salon only knowing one thing:

"I want to donate my hair," I told the stylist. 

She looked at me and nodded. "Okay."

It was silent for a minute, and I realized that maybe I should have come a little more prepared. I had assumed salons did things like this all the time - shouldn't she know what to do?

"So, um," I stuttered. "Do you have a rubberband or something?"

She shook her head - and then smiled. "No," she said, her mouth open. The smile totally threw me off, because then I didn't know if she was kidding. I'm around a lot of sarcastic people who say yes with a smile when they really mean no so I wasn't sure how to take it. Plus, what salon doesn't have a hairbinder? Come on. 

"Are you serious?" I asked, smiling back. She's gotta be kidding. The irony of a hairsalon not having a hairbinder? Too much. But, I guessed wrong. She wasn't kidding. 

"Yes, I'm serious. You know you have to send your hair in yourself, right? We don't do that for you."

I knew, and was sad I already had a bad start to my haircut. Then she asked me how I wanted it cut and I realized I'd really come into this unprepared.

"Uh.....short. With, like .... layers. I guess." I stuttered.

........

"How about you look at a magazine?" she offered. 

So I randomly flipped through a book and picked a short hairstyle with layers. I didn't really care, I just wanted it off. 

When I came out of the salon and greeted Adam, he smiled big at me and asked, "Do you like it?"

My response?

"I got the Mommy Hair-Cut, didn't I?"

This happened Wednesday night, and I'm just now getting the courage to announce it - it's taken me this long to come to terms with my new short hair. I think I like it. Sometimes I look in the mirror and think, "That's super cute!" and then other times I think, "Gosh, I look like a boy." Or, "Is that a helmet or my hair? Either way, it's ugly." But then again, I guess it doesn't matter what length my hair is - I will always have a roller-coaster relationship with my looks. who doesn't?

I do like that it's not a bird's nest of knots when I wake up in the morning, that Axton can't use it to practice being Tarzan baby anymore, and that it takes me 1.2 minutes to straighten it. Oh, and I like that I was able to donate my hair for the first time (I've wanted to in the past but my hair was always dyed. Remember my high school obsession with bleach?). I won't post a picture of my rat tail because I figure if it grosses me out then there are others that it would probably gross out, as well.