Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

A few weeks ago, I went in to get a long overdue cut and color.  I had planned to get a trim, maintain my quasi-blond color and chop my bangs.  Imagine my surprise when I walked out of the salon with six-inches less hair, bleach blond tresses and no bangs.  Usually, I am far from spontaneous when it comes to such life-altering decisions as how to cut my hair (except for that crazy hair-hacking fiasco that occurred at Paul Mitchell's Hair School my sophomore year of college.  I try to block that incident out of my memory).  However, I went for something bold, brave and daring all on a whim.  And here are the results (and keep in mind the photographers, myself and Will, leave a lot to be desired):

At first I doubted my hasty decision and mourned my lost locks (and regretted the high-maintenance bleach blond color--oh, the roots that will be had).  I suddenly got flashbacks to my ninth grade year, when my sister's friend, Amy Holdaway, offered to trim my hair, wherein she cut off a good eight inches.  I cried for days, claiming that not only had I lost my hair but with it my beauty.  And while this time around, some fifteen years later, the moment wasn't quite as traumatic, the loss of my hair did give me a moment's pause.  Thankfully, life's lessons have given me enough perspective to realize that there are far worse things than a bad haircut and that, after all, hair grows back.  I'm proud to say no tears were shed (and, thankfully, no hate mail sent to Amy Holdaway) and I'm learning to embrace my spontaneous, saucy new hair-do, as well as  appreciate my new-found maturity--even if it is fifteen years too late.