I know I've talked at length (hardy har har) about my recent decision to chop off my hair, but the experience was so sisterly super, I thought I'd relay the story one more time here. Armed with desired 'do photos - here's mine - we entered a Super/Master/Great Cuts. And left with much shorter, more manageable manes. And as my cape was flying off, my sis asked who that lady was that I liked so much ... T-i-l something or other ... 'cause that's just who/what I looked like. I wanted to jump up and run over and give her a big ol' smooch for I could only hope to look as half as cool as T-i-l ... d-a Swinton. But figured a sly little smirk would have to do. And it did. And does. Still.
Photo Source: A Lighter, Shorn Me