Text reads:
9.11.20
I loved the idea of long hair. The reality sucked (though the French braid was nice). It was like wearing a rug. So I brushed it back, caught it in a flat barrette, and chopped it off w/ kitchen shears.
I learned early not to ask for anything. "Money doesn't grow on trees" after all [One of my father's favorite sayings. It occurs to me now that if I did ask for something, I might have gotten at least a few things instead of nothing. Lesson learned]. So I figured out how to cut my own hair.
[top pic] My new hairdresser [the kitchen shears, with what I cut off]
[middle picture, left] Free at last!
[middle picture, right - my senior yearbook picture] The last time I cut my own hair. Others had ratted flips - I based my cut on Gina Lolobrigida [sp?]. I was the only high school senior who looked like an Italian film star...I didn't look like anybody else!
[bottom pic] Now. Attempting the pose from high school. Nothing remains the same!
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