My body, my choice. I'm not against it, but I wouldn't get one, either. (A short haircut, that is.)

I'm going to attempt to NOT begin every post with "so" and then begin my babble; however, for the sake of authenticity, most posts will probably start with that word, as do most of my sentences. Like my spoken word, my writing just erupts mid-thought. I've found that the word "so" acts as a buffer, making the listener or reader think that they have been listening to something relevant to what I am saying or writing next. Really, though, none of it is connected. Just ask Husband.

So the hair. The short hair. The hair I piss and moan about EVERY day. As part of the temporary insanity that gripped me the last month I lived in the States, I decided that my long hair was too long, too damaged, and needed to be cut in a smart and sassy style. In my defense, I have to add that I haven't been in complete control of my brain and body in recent months...I've got some rather crazed hormones. I should also point a finger at Katie Holmes and Victoria Beckham. They should have never got their hair cut short (or at least not allowed their photo to be taken and published) because that's what REALLY pushed me over the haircut edge.

I took it in phases, small steps. A cute semi-longish bob. A week later, a shorter bob. A week after that a borderline pixie cut...you can see where this is going. A gal with a head as big as mine should NOT have short hair unless it is super-super-super short. Like having to get it clipped every two weeks to keep it so short-kind-of-short. And having a face like Jamie Lee Curtis, Sinead O'Connor or Demi Moore helps, too. A long face like mine is not optimal, nor is really thick and apparently REALLY curly hair. Lesson learned.

With my self esteem issue rearing its ugly head (literally and figuratively) I got my hair cut really short. I imagined myself in England as the cute American with the confident, stylish, sassy short hair. Like Victoria was the cute Brit with the confident, stylish, sassy short hair back in the States. (Okay, now Spain.) Instead I end up looking about 10 years older, somehow fatter (not sure how, but it's true) and about eight shades paler.

I won't put up any of the pictures of the 'do. If I did, though, the caption would read: "Renee's Victoria Beckham Haircut - Delusion or Mutilation? You Decide."