Happy Thanksgiving! What happened to your hair?

Once a year, I do this. I don't know why. I always regret it. I make a hair appointment that is supposed to be routine and I wake up and I get in the car and I go to the salon and I sit in the chair and then "cut it all off" is out of my mouth so fast that Allison has to make me repeat it. Then we have "the talk".

Allison: Are you positive?

Self: Do it. Do it now.

Allison: You realize that the last time I cut off all of your hair you called me from the floor of your bathroom sobbing uncontrollably?

Self: Ummm, no. No, I umm....I don't remember that ever happening.

Allison: Yea, that probably has a lot to do with the handful of Xanax your sister had to shove into your mouth to keep you from flipping out on her.

Self: I promise I won't flip out, it's touching my neck, GET IT OFF OF MY NECK.

Allison: I wish you would find someone else to do your hair.

Self: Yea. Whatever.

So, I did that yesterday. My whole family is in town and they have united under a blanket of hatred for my hair. A few key conversation points have solidified my belief that my family thinks I look terrible. It's always so hard to tell what they're really thinking because they are all so subtle about it.

NOT.

Some blatant insults include:

"I told you not to cut it"-spoken by my sister.

"Happy Thanksgiving! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAIR?"- spoken by my aunt.

"Why can't you just leave good enough alone?"- that little gem was from my grandma.

"Hi Lizb- OH MY GOD."- thanks Dad.


Happy Thanksgiving!