masking & unveiling

So I promised the men a couple of days ago that I wouldn't write about many girly topics on the blog, but I was obviously lying. ESTROGEN HAPPENS.

Thursday, I let our new student pastor's wife cut my hair. Kim was really good, and I'm glad, or else as Communications Director, I could see myself accidently letting her husband's middle school events slip off of the church website.

As a new client, I had to fill out a form that asked me how much time I wanted to spend on my hair each day. Felt like I should turn in my girl license when I searched for a checkbox that said "negative 3 minutes."

Why is it that a new haircut always makes me want to set fire to all my clothes? Probably the same deep, mysterious reason that a new tube of mascara makes me want to clean out my bathroom drawer.

I have to wash the new cut and try to style it myself today. The fear factor for that is only slightly less than for being buried alive. Or for moving to a culture that doesn't value antiperspirant.