Is there a draft in here?

Mood:  happy, surprised, horrified (Oh, I'll live.)

Cue the horror movie music...imagine a darkened room...hit the spotlight...

It hasn't happened to me for a while.  I went in for the usual deal, and well, let's just say I won't be teasing my friend anytime soon about the many uses he has for the disposable razor...not when it looks like someone took one to the nape of my neck.  Ouch. 

I have hair trauma.  My hair has always been short.  I like it short.  But recently, my hairdresser (such an old-fashioned word) and I have been doing something a bit different with it.  I liked it too, but it kept growing out in a way that would get on my nerves, and I'd have to go back sooner than usual to see her.  Between my schedule and hers, this was no small feat.  Today, when I went in, I mentioned to her about how I liked it overall save for this one area that grew too fast.  And how I felt too coiffed, too "Mom-hair"ish. 

It's one of those instances when I should've known better.  She's been doing my hair forever.  I know when she's tired, cranky, and that I should not try to be the last appt on a very busy day.

She says to me, "Well, we can go shorter, but do the same stuff to it."  "Okay," I chirp, because like I said, I'm no stranger to short hair.  Snip, snip, snip.  I started to worry, but I trust her.

Oh man.  It's pretty short.  My oldest son has hair that is longer than mine (in the back.) 

I called Mr W on the way home.  I knew what he was gonna say, but I needed to hear it anyway.

I squeak out: "Hey.  It's reeaaal short."

He replies, as always: "It's your hair."

It's a blessing and a curse to have him be so nonjudgemental about these things.  I'm glad that I'm not held captive to any 'my woman must have long hair' caveman ideal, but at the same time, it would be nice to know if he had a preference.  But that's just him; he loves me for me, and let's me do whatever I want  (although I'm sure he'd have some comment to make should I show up platinum blonde with a new tattoo.)  Having witnessed the other end of the spectrum in a man that told me at a soccer party: "I don't bitch about how much she spends on her hair, she's just not allowed to cut it," how could I not be glad that he's so cool? (As for the husband of Lady Godiva, who knew Neanderthals still roamed the earth?) 

<shiver>

This is gonna take some adjustment.  I'll bet in two weeks, I'll love it.

Right now, however, it's a leeetle chilly.