Today call me unlocked.
I know. An awkward shot. I call it A Portrait of the Artist as a Middle-Aged Woman.
And no. Although I adore TLC, I’m not auditioning to be on the next season of Sister Wives or 20 Kids and Counting. I promise.
Here’s what I was actually getting ready to do:
Ten inches (and a decade of long-ish hair) off the back in one snip.
I know. The ponytail looks shorter with the curl. But she used the measuring tape. I promise.
I don’t know why the lighting in most salons is set to highlight wrinkles. Still, I couldn’t help smiling. So.
As a side note: After I wash it and become the responsible party, my hair will never look like this again.
Here I am later – surprising the family and hoping the dogs still recognize me.
For the record, they did. After all, it’s only hair. And please note the awkward positioning of my arms. It’s because Bailey was coming to jump on me and I was bracing myself.
It’s also why I will never be on America’s Next Top Model. (Yes. That’s why.)
One hunk of hair, a plastic bag and an envelope later; I had this to offer up to my mail carrier for less than $2.00 postage:
The best reason to become unlocked. Ever. And the least I could do to support anyone brave enough to fight the good fight.
Until, that is, we kick cancer’s ass and everybody wins.
Because giving is the most PHUN you’ll ever have.
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