Everything you've ever wanted to know about my hair (but were afraid to ask)

I have been threatening to cut my hair for the last nine months. Not unlike the "Am I getting fat again?" monologue, which usually ends with me weeping over a plate of carrots, the "That's it, I'm going to Best Cuts" tirade has thrilled, then entertained, then bored, then aggravated my friends and co-workers since time immemorial.

But on Christmas Eve, I made the plunge and called Ladies and Gentlemen, a very nice day spa in Mentor, where I happened to have a long-unused but never forgotten Valentine's Day gift certificate purchased by Ben. And since it was a rather expensive GC, I got a rather expensive haircut, which is sort of sad, since my hair doesn't really look all that much different than it did before I went in. There are two noticable differences:

1. It is no longer shaped like a triangle
2. It is three inches shorter, which may amaze those of you who wrote me earlier, asking when my hair had gotten so long upon seeing this picture.

I did, however, get an arm and hand massage, mini-facial, and makeup application along with my haircut, which are things I would not have gotten at Best Cuts. Perhaps Fantastic Sam's. But sadly, they appear to be defunct.


As a side note, please pay no attention to the fact that that shirt makes my boobs look weird.

Anyway, since Ben is out of town for awhile and I am bored and lonely and tired of talking with our pets, I have decided to move into phase two of Operation New Hair, which I am calling Defensive No More Gray Maneuver Strike Force Z.

That is to say, right this very moment, as I type this, I am dying my hair (please see illustration at right. Do not note the sloppy application of dye to forehead and temples). I'm just dying it brown; "Cool Brown," I believe was the schmancy name the good people at Garnier came up with. I believe Rinse Offensive Alpha Storm is imminent, so I'd better go. But I will be back soon with a progress update.

And maybe I'll actually mention the fact that Christmas happened, and perhaps go into that a bit. But that may aggravate my bad case of Post-Christmas Depression, so we may have to move directly to New Years, and just acknowledge that, as usual, Christmas was a time of magic and fun, made even more special by Ben's presence. And now it's over. And that sucks.