Okay, I did it.

(I didn't really mean to make it a thing of such suspense---and I find it irritating that I did---but I just wasn't near the computer for very long over these last few days.)

I just got all eh, what the fuck about it and armed with my computer printout of Bitchy MTV Girl, I headed for the salon and Lynn chopped the mane:









The cyclops. I did a mock photo shoot with my sister Bec afterwards and though we were laughing the entire time, I couldn't find a picture where I didn't come off looking like a douche (which is sort of what posting incessantly about my hair makes me so...).

Close?

Whatever similarity was achieved that first day was washed down the drain with my shower the next. Unable to recreate the look, my eh, what the fuck thinking had turned to oh, what the fuck was I thinking?! Three days later, I'm still in haircut limbo and feel like I may look a little like Lord Farquaad. I know I love having less hair. And I love the little Donald Duck butt of a ponytail I have after showering. But I'm still working out how to do it myself which, unless Dan is going to give me a blow-out every morning, is pretty important. (I don't know if the fact that I passed up an easy blowjob joke for one about a cartoon ass means I'm growing or regressing.) The bottom line is that it's going to require---and I hate, hate, hate saying this---practice. If I want it to look like it did when Lynn did it, I'm going to have to arm and familiarize myself with her weaponry. The straightening iron will be my go-to gat. I'll have to invest in a good one because for the past couple of days I've been using one from the 80's (really) I found in a cabinet at my parents' house (thankfully I grabbed the straightener and not the crimper) and every time I've used it on the hair closest my face, my eyes burn like they're being exposed to some sort of chemical. This can't be good. Also, I'm supposed to be using a product called "defining whip" which, I learned the hard way, should be applied with some restraint if I don't want to look like I've been washing my hair in a McDonald's frialator.

But I did it. I manned up. And even if I look a little like Toad from Super Mario Brothers,



I'm glad my sack is in tact.

If not my pride.



Still douchy.