My hair and I have a hate-love relationship. Mostly hate but occasionally love. Actually the only time we love each other is right before I get a hair cut. Maybe by that time my hair has forgiven me from the last haircut or maybe it knows whats coming and is trying to convince me not go through with my diabolical plan. Of course, I don't let my hair convince me and so right after my hair cut and the days following my hair and I are in a constant state of fighting.
I just got my hair cut a couple days ago and it actually ending up being more of an ordeal than I would have thought. The lady butchered my hair and bangs and then when I went to pay for it, I realized I had left my wallet back in the dorm. Luckily my lovely roommate had come with me to the mall or I would have been stranded at the mall cleaning the floors until I had worked off my debt.