This last weekend, I went to Sister’s and BiL’s house. For those of you who read Friday’s post, you already knew that. For those of you who didn’t, shame on you for not reading it! [I kid, I kid.] While I was there, something …. HAPPENED. To me. It will change my life …… for EVER.
Enough of the melodramatic. Here’s what I looked like Friday, a few hours before our departure:
Hey, this day should go down in history, as it’s the first time I’ve shown my face on this blog! Anyway, this is what I looked like on Sunday, during the car ride home:
Notice anything different? ^_^
Yup! Most of my hair has been chopped off! In the first picture, yes, my hair doesn’t look that great. It was still drying from my shower a couple hours beforehand [blow-drying is so much work and I’m lazy and it’s bad for my hair] and it had been in a ponytail. I didn’t do much with my hair except ponies. ….. .. . ….. . The point of the first picture was to show off my approximately 22″ of hair, root to tip. In the second picture, I’m sort of making a face because I was wondering what Dad would think if he looked in the back and there I was, snapping picture after picture of myself, trying to get a great shot. Poorly hiding my bemusement, is what that is called. Now, the longest part of my hair is about 3″.
Now I am going to have such fun doing crazy, random things with my hair! … Like spiking it, trying to lay it flat, and watching it poof. Before I start receiving nasty letters saying
“Where’s my water buffalo, why don’t *I* have a water buffalo?” “What a waste of hair!!” let me tell you it was not a waste. Most of my hair did not end up on the floor. I am donating it to Locks of Love. And no, you don’t have to have 22″ of hair before you go to a hair-cutting place [technical term, that]. The minimum amount of hair accepted to be donated is 10″ [for those of you curious, my ponies that I’m donating are about 16″ long]. It has to be in a pony or a braid for them to accept it. If your hair-cutting place doesn’t mail the hair for you, that’s okay. It’s not that difficult to do it yourself! Check out their How-to-Donate page, which includes guidelines and their mailing address.
While my hair was getting cut, Mom, Dad, Sister, and Bugg were there watching. Bugg was appalled. It was very traumatic for an almost-two-year-old. She was staring at the stylist in a way we could all tell what she was thinking: “What are you doing to Aunt Kayquie’s hair???” When my hair was put in the zip-lock bag, Bugg was curious as to what it was. “That’s Aunt Kayquie’s hair,” Sister explained. Bugg held out the bag to the hair stylist as if she was saying, “PUT IT BACK!!”