You know those movie cliches? The guy goes into the dark basement and you know something awful is going to happen? Well, I became a movie cliche today. I was the woman who was so upset there was nothing else to do but get the scissors and lob off my hair. I grabbed big hanks of soaking wet hair and yup, I took off four inches--I still have a long mane of hair, so maybe I am not QUITE the movie cliche, (I have had very short hair only twice in my life. In second grade when I had a cut called shingles of all things, and after I was very sick when my hair fell out and grew back) but it was the same moment--the silver scissors glinting, the emotional roil, the hair falling into the sink. Gasp!
Sigh. I miss those four inches. But at least the drama moment is gone, along with the hair. Hair grows back quickly, though, right?