Off with your head! Or hair...whatever...

I survived! My hair has been chopped off and I didn't bleed to death, or start speaking in tongues or fall to the floor and rend my garments. I know that this qualifies as TERRIBLY IMPORTANT INFORMATION, but since you read this blog, you had to know I would do a follow up to yesterdays entry.

My stylist actually did ask if I needed a shot of tequila before she cut off my pony tail. How awesome is THAT? I asked if she was kidding and she said no, that she had a shot glass and liquor at ready for big moments like this. If I ever move away and have to find someone new to cut my hair, this will be a requirement: do you have a wet bar hidden somewhere in the salon for hair emergencies? Because you SHOULD. A woman, sitting in the waiting area, yelled "HOLY SHIT!" as my stylist made the first snip - SHE could have used a shot. See? Everyone wins when there's alcohol involved!

I floated out of there feeling infinitely lighter and more like myself. I also got asked out twice at the grocery store (which is where I always get asked out...why? I don't know. It must be the way I fondle the vegetables) and ran into two people I know who immediately said "YOU LOOK SO MUCH BETTER WITH SHORT HAIR!" I didn't realize I had been wandering around all hag like for the past four years, but thank you!

So all is well. My pony tail will be sent off to Locks of Love and made into a wig for a child that is going through cancer treatment, and the photo above is of me, newly shorn, apparently eating my fist. Tyra would not be happy, since I've completely lost my neck, but she can just suck it. A whiz at self-photography I am not, but I'm very adept at tequila drinking, which I'm off to do. Happy Friday, bishes!

In honor of Jensen Barrett