Locks of Love, Take 2

In the fall of 2007, I cut my hair and donated an 11-inch ponytail to Locks of Love. It was a drastic cut, but everyone said it looked great and they liked it and all those other things people say to someone when they cut their hair.

You know, those lies people tell when you've cut your hair and they tell you it looks good but it actually looks bad.

Because it did. Look bad, that is. 

Jordan agrees with me, so that's how you know I'm not making this up. I told him the cut didn't look good because my face was fat. And he, like a good man should, said something along the lines of, "No way. I'm sure it looks great. You're beautiful." Blah blah blah. 

But when confronted with a picture of the aforementioned haircut and fat face, he had no choice but to admit that yes, my face did look fat. And no, it was not the best look for me. And yes, I'm one of those people who should keep long hair for as long as possible, if not forever.

I was not in the least offended by this, because it was true. 

Since then, my hair had grown long again and was the longest it had ever been, to my recollection. I only get my hair cut on average once every 7 or 8 months, so there were split ends like you wouldn't believe, and the whole thing was getting to the point of no return. Either I chopped it off, or I accepted the fact that I was forever going to be a long-haired, frumpy girl and just started wearing long jean skirts and baggy sweatshirts.

I chose the former, obviously, but I'm of the sort to put off cutting my hair until the last possible moment. Something about hair salons makes me start sweating. I think it's the cape. (Oh yeah, and because I'm cheap. But that's not really the point.)

Anyway, I put it off until the moment I realized in a sudden state of panic that I must cut it now. (Even though I was experiencing major stress over the thought of returning to the 2007 hair era.)

This moment came on Thursday, so I booked an appointment, grabbed a plastic bag for the ponytail they were going to cut, and headed out. 

It wasn't as scary as when I donated the first time. I didn't cry. But it was super weird to feel nothing on the back of my neck. The ponytail she cut measured 13 inches, and then she cut at least another inch off to shape it into an actual haircut. It hasn't been this short since I've known Jordan, and he'd never seen me without long hair.

I didn't tell him I was cutting it. 

That was the best part--feeling all cute and bouncy (because of the hair) as I drove home to show him my new style. After staring at me for at least 30 seconds, he said, "I'm not going to lie... I wasn't sure how you'd look with short hair. I was worried. But I like it."

And I did too. That whole fat face fiasco was burned into my memory, but it seems I've slimmed down since college--at least in the face. So I can handle a shorter cut now, and I don't get the impression that people are lying to me when they say it looks good. 

So after the above picture was taken, I held up the ponytail horizontally, like this:

And Jordan said, "Hey, that looks like a mustache."
So clearly the next obvious step was to actually take pictures using the ponytail as a mustache.

Necessary? No. 

Awesome? Yes.

Also, did you know that it takes 6-10 ponytails to make one hairpiece? And they're custom made for each child. And the retail price of the hairpieces is between $3,500-6,000! Goodness.

So to date, I've donated one fourth of a hairpiece. Yay for me. 

I might just do it again in four years. Work my way up to one whole hairpiece. And then sell it on Craigslist for $6,000. Genius, I tell you.


Another added bonus to short hair: the tiny ponytail. It's so cute!