Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

The haircut. It's ritual. Part of recovery. The key is to get one that would really disappoint him. I did exactly that.

I'd gone in for a trim, but, sitting in the chair, I felt restless. "Why not?" a wicked little voice teased. "Get rid of every memory."

I asked my precision cutter what he thought about a Twiggy coif for me. I take his hair opinions pretty seriously, since I've known him longer than I've known Luke. "Strong brow, strong eyes, little neck--perfect for you."



Luke says it's Posh Spice meets Justine from Elastica. It usually feels more Victoria to me, but I have my Justine days, too.

So yeah. My hair was halfway down my back. Now it doesn't touch my neck.