Well, my hair has been pre-Raphelite-ing again, and had become pretty unmanageable. I was mostly just throwing it up in a messy bun or braid, until Emma got a hold of it and pulled it all down and apart. Since I have no immediate plans to swoon in rowboats or languish on the edge of city ramparts or otherwise take advantage of my long, unruly hair, I decided it was time for it to go.
So, off to the hairdresser I went. She asked if I wanted most of it cut off in a ponytail so I could donate it to a wig-making for cancer patients charity. I said yes, of course. How fantastic would that be to have my hair, which is just irritating me, used for something so wonderful? And since my hair is such an unusual colour, it really is perfect. Rather charmingly, when I brought home and dried out the ponytail, Dave asked if we could keep it next time in case I died, so he could remember my red hair. I told him he was being very Victorian and that the ponytail was going in the mail.
In any case, here is the hair that was cut off, and here is my new haircut: