06 April 2008
At least she hasn't destroyed the temple. Yet.
Look, I understand why you’re upset. I know you didn’t see this coming: frankly, neither did I. I mean, I kept hearing all this conflicting information: some people adored your long hair (my mom, your mom, little old ladies in the grocery store). Others, like your father, thought it was just getting in your way. All I know is that the snarls you woke up with on Saturday couldn’t have been worse if they’d been made my actual squirrels. Three combs broke just looking at those tangles.
Even before you were in the chair, I apologized to the hair professional for the mess she was about to encounter. And perhaps your screaming, which brought no fewer than 4 other stylists over with offers to help, is what made me finally decide. (Well, that and the knowledge that your hair grows faster than you talk, which is near the speed of light). At any rate, I hope you don’t look back on this weekend angrily in the coming years. I promise you can grow it out again, if you want to. It just had to be done.