I caught your attention, there, didn't I? And you're undoubtedly thinking, three inches? She's excited about three inches? Her situation is worse than we thought. Yes, I am excited about three inches. And I'm not ashamed to admit it.
Of course, the three inches to which I am referring are the three inches of hair that my stylist cut from my trashy mane last Thursday. I treated myself to a pedicure and an eyebrow wax, as well. There is nothing like spending a little money to make a girl feel just a bit brighter and lighter in her Pumas.
I needed some sort of intervention. I have been finding gray hairs left and right lately, and it has really turned my little world upside down. I always imagined that I would age gracefully and peacefully. Not so. It's pissing me off, in fact. Every time I spy one of those coarse, silver, renegade hairs taunting me from the mirror. Anger.
I suppose I needed a reminder that I can still look hot when I need to.
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