My local watering hole just so happens to be attached to a barbershop.

JW freaked the hell out when he first saw it. He shortly calmed down, though – that is until I brought up days later that I might go even shorter the next time I went in for a cut.

“You mean you’re not going to grow it out?”

“Uh….NO. I did not cut off eight inches of my hair to enjoy one month of it being short only to then shift to a year of awkward re-growth”

“It takes that long?!”


“It would only take ME a month.”

I chose to ignore his being an idiot and give him time to adjust to my new look. However, in the days after, I would catch him staring at my hair and making faces.

“Yo, my eyes are down here.”

“I just really liked your flowing, blonde hair.”

“Well, first of all, my hair never flew. It was long, stick-straight, and lifeless. Two, it’s MY hair. Three, I couldn’t do anything to change it now, even if I wanted to. You’re not being supportive and you’re making me feel bad.”

Suck it up, Jerk.


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