When I woke up Saturday morning I had this odd sensation on my arm. A hair - one of the many falling out of my head daily - had landed on my arm and I could distinctly feel it. As I brushed it off, I made a determination. My hair was coming off.
I called Lori, our family hair dresser to see if she could fit me. "Are you going short?" she whispered into the phone. The last time we had been in, it was so LP and the Hoos could get hair cuts. The Hoos made it clear to Lori that her preferred my long hair and that he would do anything he could to keep me from cutting it off. Regardless, I responded to her in the affirmative.
I am now the proud wearer of a shorn head. Too short for ponytails and too short for little fingers to pull out. It is still falling out - but it is not nearly as messy or distracting. And, unlike after I had LP, my hair is straight again. Hormones are very, very weird things. Pictures will be posted at some point...although I would rather post pictures of the girls:)