I've got this thing about getting my hair cut. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with getting the most for my money. Whenever I go to get my hair cut, I always cut more than I want to cut, because I figure that if I'm paying for a cut, it better look like it was cut. And the more she cuts, the better a deal I got, right? What is it with all the crazy, do you think?
But not this time. No. This time I've been growing my hair out for months and months--six months since the last trim and I have a long-summer-with-no-options-but-a-ponytail to thank for it. That's correct, folks--I walked in, I sat down, and I told her to cut just a little as possible to give me a shape and get rid of split ends. It almost hurt to say it--I've said it before and then retracted--but say it I did, and then bit my tongue and that's what I got.
Turned out she didn't need to cut much more than a quarter inch. How's that for money's worth. The old me would be devastated.
But there it is. Kari and her Long Hairs. It only took me 20-something years to get here, but hey . . . something "about better late than never," right?