The day Cailie chopped my hairs.

It's been over a month and a half, but I've been a total and complete blogging slacker. Two days before Christmas I called my friend, Cailie, and told her to come over, it was time for a change of my hairs. Cailie is a hair stylist, and she is the boss of what I can and can not do with my hairs. This is not because she is mean, this is because she loves me and because she knows that if I make drastic, sudden changes with my hair, the control freak inside of me will have an absolute conniption fit. I had talked with her for a few months about chopping my hairs, and finally, when I brought it up again, she said she thought it would actually be a good idea.

We decided to donate what we could to Locks of Love, since I've highlighted my hair, I couldn't donate anything that bleach had been used on. The top half had been processed, but not the bottome half, so that hair was good to go.

She chopped it, and chopped it good. With fourteen inches of hair sealed in a bag, and placed in a padded envelope, it was off to help make wigs for some lucky kiddo.

It was a little scary, and I'll admit to slightly hyperventilating while this picture was being taken, I've really liked having short hair for the first time in my life! I don't get sad anymore, but right after I had cut it, if I did start to get a little sentimental, if I thought about the little girl or boy that would get a wig made with some of my hair, I felt all warm and fuzzy inside.

And I would do it all over again. No regrets.