I have a new 'do!

I have been a victim of tatty hair for too long. I am not going back to Arkansas and the loving shears of Michael, the man who has tamed my mother's intractable hair, until at least July — barring any unexpected events — and I couldn't wait. I looked atrocious with split ends and all.

So Beth made me an appointment with her stylist, Ryan, who is not a gay man but rather a bubbly blonde who is, of all things, engaged to another Ryan who is not a gay man. No, really, she's positive.

Basically I didn't say much of anything. Beth and Ryan worked the whole thing out themselves. I'd forgotten that I'd been considering bangs (I probably whisked it out of my mind because my last bang experience with them they were wretched, just a block of hair on my forehead that Claire, my then-stylist at "What's Under Your Hat," would lighten up with the then-totally brand-new sorta scissors, you know, they don't cut all the hair? Those) — Not Beth! She brought it up, and Ryan suggested "side bangs," which are basically less hair than traditional bangs and pushed to the side. Well, I am glad Beth was there to push for them because I kept hearing my mom's voice nagging and bitching about how stupid it would look to have bangs that weren't really bangs. Mind you, this is a conversation from maybe 10 years ago.

Well, Mom, you were wrong. I got the side bangs. They are great. I also pretty much let Ryan do whatever she wanted with my hair, which included layering the bejeezus out of it. Much more than I would normally have gone for. For the first time in ages I feel okay with having my hair down because it isn't all in my face, which is awesome.

Also, I look like a girl. I nearly cried in the hairdresser's chair — she and Beth pulled off a "big reveal" by drying my hair while I was turned away from the mirror — with the whole looking like a girl thing. A pretty girl. I am not a crier.

I am, however, a cheeseball.