That's me. I don't yet recognize it as me. I think I've scared myself in the mirror a dozen times already, thinking there's a stranger behind me. The nice lady next to me is Tracy, the stylist at Salon Nuveau who did my hair.
I thought this would be a traumatic experience, and in some ways it really was. I had a few nervous energy/emotional tears. That hair has been with me for a long time, and I was an infant the last time my hair was this short. But I was ready for this, and even though the sound of scissors right next to my head was THE scariest thing I've ever heard, I'm glad I did it. Just one more experience, one more way to push beyond my comfort zone.
Thankfully, my mom was there to play the role of photographer and moral support. She forgot the booze, though. Luckily, the lovely ladies at the salon were also able to provide liquid courage! Here's a highlight reel, of sorts:
Oh shit...what am I getting into...
Rocking' the 'gonna sell my hair' ponytails.
*singing* the first cut is the deepest...note my mother, photographer extraordinaire, in the mirror. Hi, Mom!
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