Yesterday morning, after forcing myself to get up and sending the boys off to school, I collapsed back to sleep on the couch. There was absolutely no reason why I was so tired, I had gotten a full night’s sleep, hung around all weekend long without answering a single email and even assigned myself zero responsibilities for Monday.

I oculd have just draped myself on the couch all day long, watching the last few episodes of Glee (I’ve been on a non-stop marathon since discovering it on Netflix and Hulu) but then the lazy Monday would very easily eclipse into a lazy Tuesday, Wednesday and so forth.

On top of that, the site was a little broken and Scott was frantically trying to fix the bugs people were experiencing. Normally when my site breaks, I turn into a complete¬†AAAACK!!!freakazoidAAAACK!!!, but yesterday I just was like, “ehhh. site’s down” and resumed Season 2 Episode 17.

Clearly, there was something wrong with me. And when I’m in a funk, there’s only ONE way to fix that.

A makeover.

So I called my hair salon and booked an appointment with whichever stylist was available in 2 hours.

After donning the shower curtain (I hate those things!) I sat in the chair. Sarah asked, “So what are we going to do today?”

“Cut it all off. All of it.”

“Uh, ALL of it? You mean like 2 inches?”

“No. ALL OF IT. And let’s make whatever hair is left BRIGHT RED.”

Sarah clearly was not accustomed to this sort of deranged clientele and she kept trying to shake me back to reality, knowing full well that if I woke up tomorrow morning with a Ronald McDonald colored stubble on top of my head I’d probaby return to the studio with my meat cleaver.

Sarah brought out color swatches, “How about a caramel highlights?” I shook my head. “Okay, how about this violety auburn?”

“Woman. I said BRIGHT! VIBRANT! Get me outta this funk!”

She conferred with another stylist, most likely telling her, “okay, call the cops if she makes any sudden movements or reaches for my clippers,” and then hestitantly brought me out a cup of hot coffee, “Here you go, sweetie.”

A few sips of hot coffee later and….uh….I snapped out of it. OH BULLDOG BARNACLES. What have I done?????

All I needed was caffeine and I’m going to end up looking like that girl from Eurythmics…..except Asian. and short. and wearing a shower curtain. and speaking in front of a crowd at BlogHer Food in 4 days.

Luckily, Sarah had just started.

I must say I can rock it with the tin foil look. Oddly, my iPhone suddenly had better reception with the foil on my head.

After 30 minutes of color setting in, it was time to cut.

Sarah asked, “So would you like to donate to Locks of Love?

After my little caffeine infusion, I really hadn’t planned to go through cutting all of my hair. Maybe a more sensible trim to knock off an inch or two. It had taken me 3 years to grow from just under my ear (the photo top right in my header) to just a few inches above my waistline. I had long, luscious, shiny, flippable hair that I like to curl into flowing spirals.

I still had half a bottle of Bumble & Bumble Brilliantine, which promised to give me “polish and a sort of languid, slept-in, sexy look” every morning.

I had sexy big hair.

Cut it all off? I could selfishly say no thank you, but…..the children. How could I not!?

“Uh, okay, I guess.”

To donate, the hair must be braided into a ponytail and the hair must be at least 10-inches long.

For just a moment, hold out your two hands to measure 10-inches. That’s a lot of hair. Which meant I was going to end up bald after all.

Every muscle in my neck was tense.

Sarah put my hair in a tight ponytail at the nape of my neck.

Yup, that measures 10-inches.

Braided it.

And the moment of truth. I held my breath so long I almost passed out until I realized that if I moved an inch in any direction it might mean that her razor-sharp scissors would accidentally cut too much off.


You know what? It was such a freeing, liberating experience! It felt like I just lost a bunch of emotional baggage (who knew I stored baggage in my hair?) and I think I even lost 2 pounds as I have very thick, heavy hair.

I was giggling so much that I couldn’t hold my phone still enough to take a photo!

The result? The cheapest therapy I’ve ever had. $100 for cut, color and a donation to Locks of Love on top of that.

Scott took this photo this morning and reminded me that I look even younger than my “pretend age” of…..uh…29.

Oh heck, forget fibbing about my age anymore!

Hello, world, I’m nearly 39 years old!