I got my hair cut yesterday. But no. No, cut isn't the right word to use there - it's not dramatic enough. My hair wasn't cut, it was chopped. Sliced. Hacked. Hatcheted.
Alright, hatcheted might be going a bit far. Plus I'm not 100% sure it's actually a real word. But you get what I mean. Don't get me wrong, I like it. I do. It's pretty different, and I feel a bit like the lovechild of Mick Jagger and Joan Jett (minus the musical talent), but it's sorta cool in an androgynous/face covering/did-that-girl-go-back-in-time-and-swap-heads-with-Ringo-Starr? kind of way.
Hairdressers make me nervous. I have this ridiculous fear that if I accidentally look away from the mirror for 2 seconds, they're gonna shave my head. And I'd really prefer it if that didn't happen. As far as I'm concerned, there's only two people who can truly - truly - pull off the 'Intentionally Bald' look:
1) Wentworth Miller
2) Ummm...Okay, so I lied. There is no second person. I just wanted to give momentary hope to anyone who's ever shaved their head for kicks.
Speaking of people who shave their head for kicks, when my Dad asked me this afternoon if I was planning on getting any more tattoos, I told him that yes, I'm going bald and getting a portrait of Voldemort's face on the back of my skull.
How many times have I told that joke? 50? 60? It never dies.