I'm not what you would call a follower.
(Except for blogging, in which case I follow everyone. Obsessively. Yes, that's right. I'm following you. And you. And you didn't even know it.)
I usually pride myself on going against the grain of the norm. When the skinny jean heroin model trend started up, I refused to participate and purchased extra large knit drawstring pants and a cheeseburger.
When Seventeen magazine told me to be proud of my God-given hair color and leave it alone, I swiftly purchased a $4.00 box of hair dye entitled something like "Eggplant Parmesan" and ended up looking like this:
You get the idea.
(Yes, I had a mustache in this picture. I was only 17 and had not yet become privy to the uses of Nair, Nads, wax, or, clearly, a mirror. Shut it.)
In keeping with my trend of personal trail blazing, I did it again this weekend. In a world full of Grow-Your-Hair-To-Your-Ass or Buy-$5000-Extensions-To-Make-Your-Hair-Look-Like-It's-Grown-To-Your-Ass messages, I opted to chop my hair off on Saturday.
This was not a well thought out decision.
First of all, I live in Kansas. It is WINTER TIME. So far this year, our fine state has managed to avoid an all-out snow fest.
Apparently Mother Nature, in all her infinite wisdom, took it upon herself to patiently wait until I removed approximately 5" of hair insulation around my neck to dump a snow storm on the city. Therefore, on Wednesday, if you happen to see a crazed lunatic with an out-of-season bob haircut pumping her fist at the sky and screaming "WHY dammit? WHY?", it's me...
Secondly, I recently bought a brand new Chi flat iron.
It wasn't cheap.
Now I have an outrageously expensive piece of hair styling equipment, perfect for my really long hair...when a $9.00 hot pink Conair piece of shit will do just fine.
I am so brilliant.
On a side note have having nothing to do with anything, I have approximately 15 ridiculous silver gray hairs IN THE MOST OBVIOUS PART OF MY HEAD.
I'm off to get some more Eggplant Parmesan hair dye...