Impromtu Make Over

With the assistance of my darling daughter, I got a spur-of-the moment make over this evening.  It went like this:

Reagan asked if she could comb my hair.  I said sure - you can comb my hair.  Then my phone rang, and I was talking to my father-in-law as Reagan continued to comb my hair.  No big deal.  When I hung up the phone, I realized that Reagan was trying to curl my hair with said comb, which means that she was turning and turning it.  I tried to extract the comb, to no avail.  I tried it for TWENTY MINUTES.  Then I had my husband try to extract the comb for an additional 10 minutes (that was an experience equivalent to child birth).  Needless to say - epic fail.  I frantically called three different hair salons - no one was even available to take my call.  Called my sister for expert advice  - but the detangler she suggested didn't work.  There was no way around it.  I couldn't go to work on the morrow with a purple comb stuck in my hair.  I was on my own.  Time to chop.  So chop I did.

Rob trimmed the back, I did the rest, with a dull pair of scissors.  It is what it is.  We won't be winning any beauty pageants around here, but then... that wasn't necessarily a danger in the first place.  I had been debating whether or not to cut my hair.  This just kind of made the decision easier to make.  Thanks for that, Reagan!