I got, like, four inches cut off my hair today.
This is what I get for going to my Fabulous Gay Hairdresser while stressed, grumpy, and way too hot. (In other words, get the hair off my neck. Now.)
I think I like it. Really, I think I do. Or my brain may be faking me out into believing I like it so I don’t have a freaking nervous breakdown and lock myself in my admittedly enormous closet (it has a window!) for the rest of the year.