Poof be gone

This weekend something very bad happened.

I went in for a 2-inch trim and got one of the most dramatic haircuts of my life. By a crazy woman who was giving me grief for not playing the lottery.

I know I exaggerate almost everything, but I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I asked for 2-2.5 inches. She cut off at least five.

I now look like this guy - http://www.pixyland.org/peterpan/ and can't even put my hair in a lil' ponytail.

When I got home from the butcher shop my husband actually decided he was going to start calling me Tricia, Tricia the redneck.

I guess this is what I get for going to a "salon" just because I received a $10 coupon in the mail. I really need to figure out to reconcile my desire for nice things with my stupid need to get every free sample possible.

In the meantime, I will just have to spend that $10 I saved on headbands, bobby pins, and teeny tiny rubberbands. Either that or just get a ghetto weave, a la Britney Spears post-head-shaving-meltdown.