Bob It

I don't know where it came from. Shedding hair has never grossed me out, but I couldn't stand the long strands of my own hair coming out of my head and landing on any surface that happened to catch it first. I had enough. I called three salons this afternoon and everyone was booked. So, on my way home from the bank, I decided to keep my eyes open for a salon that I had missed. I found a cute little place on Liberty St., told the gal I wanted a bob and that I wanted to donate my hair. She didn't even hesitate and hardly took a breath. She measured my hair, poised the scissors and asked if I was ready. Then she cut. My thick, wavy locks were put in a plastic bag and she gave the cut a style. I walked out of the shop with a lighter head and cold neck and a great deal of excitement.