You've been chopped.

Dear Spring,

I love you. I truly do. I was born during your blessed season. I love the smell of growing grass and all the flowers. I love the sense of renewal. I do however have one complaint...with this new "resuscitation" of body and soul, if you will, you stir within me the need to flirt with the scissors and my hair

{and hubby}

....wait with bated breath to see if disaster or master piece emerge.

Why why spring do you do this to me? I was doing so good in growing my hair out...whatever that means and to whatever end. But these haircuts {that would be customized to fit my face of course}

have me enamored. Do I dare? It's just hair after all.

And I don't look bad in baseball caps....