Perhaps I Should Define "Chopped"

Maybe "chopped" is too strong a word for my new hairstyle. Keith chastised me after my last blog entry, because he felt my choice of words was misleading.

It is true that my hair is now the shortest it's been in over ten years. But, to be fair, my hair is usually well past my shoulders. At times, it has stretched halfway down my back. So before when I've gotten it cut, I never really went higher than my shoulders.

Because, as those who know me can attest, my hair is really, really curly. I joke that, to grow my hair out an inch, I actually need to grow it three "straight" inches to account for how much it curls up. So I get really tentative about chopping off an inch or two of hair, because that represents a significant time investment. Plus, the less my hair weighs, the more it curls up.

So what if I expect it to end up at my shoulders, and it ends up at my ears? I honestly have no idea what my hair would look like really short. But I'm afraid of of looking like Little Orphan Annie, with tight ringlets all over my head. I already get accused of being younger than I am, and the last thing I want is to take another 5 years off my appearance.

But I did get it cut short—for me. I probably got at least 6 inches cut off. The picture above was taken last week, of me and my Mom in our fabulous purple outfits. So you can judge for yourself whether my hair is "chopped" or if it makes me look like a teen-aged mother.