It’s that time again. My hair has gotten too long and too out of control.

I actually hate having long hair. My hair is super thick, and it takes forever to dry when it’s long. For example, I took this photo last night, and had showered first thing in the morning – my hair was still damp.

But I often hear, “Oh, if only I had hair like yours!” so I feel a little ungrateful. So, I’ve tried to make a point of growing out my hair to donate it (the laziest form of charity work I could come up with) – which means I can’t cut it until I have at least twelve inches.

So, last night, I put my hair up in pigtails…

… and sized them up:

It looked like my hair passed the test.

And so I contacted my hairdresser (she’s very accommodating, given my last-minute appointment tendencies):

She dove right in with aplomb:

My hair is so thick that even a seasoned hairdresser like her had trouble cutting through my gordian knots. She decided that it was necessary to just take a little at a time.

She was focused and determined:

while, I must admit, I was distracted by the paparazzi:

After what seemed like an excessive amount of hacking, the first ponytail was finally freed:

The hairdresser was triumphant:

… and slightly crazed:

… but recognized there was more work to be done. Exhausted by the heavy lifting required for the first ponytail, she called in her brawny assistant, who dispatched the second ponytail in mere seconds.

Apparently, he considered this is greatest physical challenge to date, and did a lot of grandstanding.

I can’t say that it wasn’t justified.

With the ponytails out of the way, it was time to get down to the real artistry. My hairdresser honed in on her work with the utmost concentration:

My head already felt five pounds lighter.

Unfortunately, my hairdresser suddenly lost interest, after discovering some bananas on the counter. I was forced to ask the burly assistant for help, a concession he clearly delighted in:

Frankly, his work was sub-par, so I had to finish the job myself.

My hairdresser suddenly re-appeared on the scene, demanding I supplement my new ‘do with some expensive salon-supplied hair tchotchkes:

I stood my ground and declined to buy any. The whole point of this new hairstyle was that it was going to be low maintenance. NO RAINBOWS FOR ME! Plus, salons are notorious for their outrageous markups.

My two ponytails were now free to be sent away, to inhabit a more grateful and needy head.

I once sent my hair to Locks of Love, but there’s been some controversy over the fact that they sell a good amount of their hair to wig manufacturers rather than using it to make wigs for people who need them. The last thing I want is for my hair to be caught dead on Nicki Minaj’s primped pate. So, I donate to Wigs for Kids, which is a much smaller and less well-known program. Hopefully my hair goes to a kid who really wants it.

So Alden packed up my hair in a ziploc bag:

and we filled out the donation form and put it in the envelope:

and my hair is ready to go!

Off to a new life – exciting. And now I get to embark on my new life too – a new life of more frequent showers (seriously, I hate taking a shower with long hair because it takes so long to wash it) and a low-maintenance head.

And oh, how this pleases me.