I'm not a long hair kind of girl. It was long in ninth grade and I finally convinced my mom to let me cut it and I really haven't looked back since. Periodically, I get a wild hair and think I should let it grow out. Like right now, it is past my shoulders. Well, technically not right now because it's almost invariably in a pony tail. I really don't like it when it gets this long. It gets stringy, in the way, stuck in my collars and zipped in my coat. Yesterday, I was perusing my Face Book photos, and came across myself on my 30th birthday.
I really like my hair here. Like, a lot. So whenever I go to my next appointment (for some reason it isn't on my calender, although I know I made it because my April appointment is there....) I'm going to tell him to bleach the shit our of my hair and cut it the fuck off. Him, as in the guy in the photo sitting next to me, reaching for my husband's cock and balls. He does great hair. And he's not too shitty of a friend either.
And looking at this picture, I'm feeling another birthday mountain trip coming soon. Yeah, those were good times. Maybe a hike instead of miniature golf since we have a baby, but it should be equally fun.
But seriously, the hair. I love it and must have it back!