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Tuesday, February 05, 2002 Oh, man, I've done it now. Don't ask me how it came to this -- I have no good explanation, and skipping any soundings of my psychological depths might be the wisest course right now. Regardless, an hour ago, give or take a few stunned minutes, I happened to glance in the bathroom mirror and found I could no longer simply ponder and bitch re: the state of my hair. I'd somehow gone drastically, irreversibly past that point. Instead, something swept over me -- pique, angst, aesthetic outrage, an irresistible urge to flail at myself with pointed objects -- and before I could stop me, I'd grabbed the shears and begun a harrowing, precipitous bout of my own personal fast weight-loss method. When the flailing ceased, both sink and tub contained impressive mounds of hair. And my head? Different-looking. Smaller. Lighter. A bit freer, actually. [Insert hopeful sound of chirping birdies.] Actually, the post-shower assessment is cautiously optimistic. If, however, you hear distant screaming shortly after my waking hour tomorrow a.m., you'll know the outlook has darkened and a fast, remedial trip to one of the local hair butchers will be in order. Pray for me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Addendum: Just made a brief foray into the bathroom for a situation assessment, found the damage minimal enough and the overall results encouraging enough that I'm feeling, right this unexpected moment, insufferably smug and cute. That may pass. Remain on alert for distant early morning hysteria. rws 1:18 PM [+]
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