What did I do?

Since the wee age of 14, I've been coloring my hair. First, champagne blonde, then platinum, then red, auburn, brunette, espresso. You name it, my hair has been that color.

I heart hair. Even more, I heart doing things to my hair. Some are successful -- some are DISASTERS. Like the time Feria and I clearly did not see eye to eye and coloring over my highlights resulted in LAVENDER streaks through my hair. Or the time I left my foils on too long (yes, I did my own foils). Or the time the Southern Baptist gay man clearly did not understand that I meant honey blonde and not Clemson orange. I have more hair stories - all by myself - than most Southern chapters of Kappa Delta.

So, this past week I made a(nother) drastic change. I chopped off my hair in a longer-styled reverse mullet. Think Sienna Miller, not Kate Gosselin. And it's not bad - the new hair cut. It's super easy to fix and takes no time to dry.

Nonetheless, I was sitting in the chair when I realized what had happened. Several pounds of hair on the floor... AND OH HOLY SHIT BALLS. I look like my mother.