Jesus loves Bowie. He told me himself.

Okay.

So, I used to be obsessed with my hair. Not so much the style, but how dirty long it was. It was mermaid hair - it was gorgeous. It was longer than a pornstar's penis, golden, wavy, and perfect! Mind you, it was shapeless and I did spend like, a small fortune on shampoos and conditioners for it. Whatever.

I had an identity crisis in August (as I'm sure you'll recall), and chopped my mop considerably. And dyed it. Whatever. It was good, for a time, but then it grew (imagine that) and I needed a change again.

And so Friday afternoon kicks in, along with where this tale is going:

I cut off all my hair. Insert heaving noises here.

It looks decent, I guess; it's more petite than it's ever been. In fact, I'm almost pretty sure that I was born with longer hair*. I had a mild breakdown last night at work and asked Scooty (in tears) "what have I done?".

"Hair grows, dear."

True.

* = indicates complete lies

P.S. It's Post Secret Sunday! It's Post Secret Sunday!