Wednesday September 15, 2004: Despite the fact that my husband claimed my hair was sexy -- "You know, in a European way" -- it had been a year since I decided it might be fun to painstakingly maintain the look of a horribly botched haircut, and I needed a change. Then, to make a boring process slighty more narcissistic, I invited the entire Internet to share the stultifying process as I grew it all out. I actually looked okay for a while, and then I started to look like David Cassidy, so on Day Ninety-six I caved and cut it short again. Thus, Simba, the circle of life goes on*.









*Simba is my hairdresser's name.**

**Not really. I'm a compulsive liar.

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The History of My Hair













(c) fussy.org 2004