Call it "I'm approaching my thirtieth birthday and needed to do something spontaneous." Call it "I now have gone to the same hairdresser long enough that I trust her to do whatever she thinks looks good." Call it "I've been reading old-timey German on microfilm and was starting to feel haggard."
I got a lot of hair cut off today. A lot. I love it, but am also totally neurotic about it. (This comes as a surprise to no one, correct?)
Here it is:
So short, right? It feels so much better, since it had been an impossible length for a while, and I'd started putting it in strange pigtails while I was working. I was thinking it was a little Dooce.
But then I started watching 30 Rock and it occurred to me: do I have the same haircut as Kenneth Parcell?
Here's the comparison, using a slightly different shot of my haircut (brushed to the side differently):
(Don't worry: I still love my haircut. And at least it isn't the Bieber.)