No more Grammi-locks!

I finally decided to color my hair back to "Nancy" brown. Sure, the grey was lovely and all but for God's sake... I'm only 42. The next person that said, "oh, you should keep it" was going to get a chop to the trachea. Really? I'm pretty sure that not ONE of my friends that are around my age would dream of letting their hair go grey. My own mother is 62 and her hair is still colored! I'm glad that they were being kind but come on...

The lack of maintenance was a great but looking like Matt's frumpy sugar mama cougar was not. Yes, I'm vain like that. Now I just look like his little dorky brother. Even better.

I love when people ask if I'm going to keep it short. Um, do I have a choice? In the six months since it's been growing back, it's still only about an inch and a half long at its longest. Even if I let it grow back to the shoulder length I had previously, it would take a couple of years. Ain't nobody got time for that!

I really do like having short hair. I can get up, take a shower and get all dolled up (yeah, I snickered just typing that) in less than 30 minutes. That's fan-damn-tastic. Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night messes up my hair. My hair is like the fucking mailman sans the goofy socks and attitude.

Just like my boobs, my hair certainly doesn't define me but having post-chemo shorty short grey hair made me feel like I was still in transition mode. Now I feel - and think I look - like I got this 'do on purpose.

Look out... The old Nancy is peeking out!