Well, I got my hair cut yesterday. Finally. It had been like, a year. I have a fear of getting my hair cut.
I never, ever like it. Ever.
Yesterday, after the stylist, a perky spiky-haired girl with tattoos, was finished, I was amazed. I actually liked it! Or so I thought.
When I woke up this morning, there it was. My Patented Day-After-Haircut Regret. There is no cure. Well, except time. It will grow back. And usually after a few days I feel okay. I get used to it, I guess.
I wonder if this is revealing deeper aspects of my personality, like a fear or dislike of change, or maybe just a fear of hairstylists.
This particular haircut must not be that different, because nobody really noticed at work. Greaaat.