Locks & (lots and lots of) Love-

So, where to being. Well, if you know me, you know that I have been growing my hair out for about...5ish years. I haven't cut/trimmed my hair in at least 3 years. Kinda gross actually. So, I have been planning to go in to a salon and have some of it cut off because quite frankly, I was one prairie dress away from a guest spot on Big Love. 

I have always admired people who donate their hair to Locks of Love and last night I went on the website to see what the requirements were for a donation. The minimum donation is 10 inches so I figured, since my hair was practically to my ass crack- my hair would still be long. Sometimes I tend to be...compulsive. I asked Michael to measure the appropriate amount, mark it with a pony tail holder (as instructed on their website) and asked him to go ahead and just cut it. I mean, how hard is it to cut a straight line, right? 

Wrong. Now, god love my husband but for some reason he started cutting it and started laughing hysterically. Instead of pausing to continue laughing, he kept cutting. 

He hands me the pony tail of hair- now half the top of the ponytail is cut right above the hair tie (as it was supposed to be) and the other half- well it was cut about FOURish inches shorter. I booked it to the bathroom mirror in horror. As I suspected, half on my hair was about 4 inches shorter than the other. 

 I know you may be thinking- what is the big effing deal. But when you have been growing your hair out for half a decade- you get a little attached. Should I have paid/waited for a professional to do it? Yes. Should I have asked my poor husband to cut my hair? No. But I couldn't think about any of that- all I could do was literally curl up in the fetal position and sob for a good half an hour. I completely threw a fit and Michael felt SO BAD. I was so mad at him for not taking it seriously and not taking his time, but I know in his heart or hearts he never intended to purposely mess up my hair.

Well I walk into the bathroom to blow my nose about 10 minutes later and my poor husband is CHOPPING OFF ALL OF HIS HAIR! (Oh, btw he has been growing his hair out for the past 1.5 years).

I screamed, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING???!!!!" and he said "I wanted you to know how bad I felt". Insert feeling like the worlds biggest douchebag here. How could I be mad after that? I couldn't & shouldn't. 

Well, thankfully I was able to get an appointment today at The Studio (half tattoo parlor, half hair salon- very cute) in Roseville, CA. My hair is "fixed" and even though I have NO intention of keeping my hair this short, at least it is one length. My head feels so light. Some little girl & boy with cancer are going to get some amazing weaves thanks to mine & my husband's crazy asses.

I can't find a picture with my "full" length of my hair since about 6+ months ago, but picture my hair about 4-5 inches longer than it is here:

Not sure why I look drunk. Maybe that is the look of pretending to be happy, who knows.

Michael's before:

Now:

Moral of the story:

1. Sometimes impulses are meant to be ignored.

2. My husband is pretty much the most amazing person evaaar!!!

And so it is. In the end I am still really happy because I know some special kid out there is going to benefit from this and I hope this might encourage others to donate to Locks of Love as well!