I cut off (or more accurately, had a professional cut off) 82% of my hair, which is probably 7 to 16% shorter than I’ve had done before, which completely weirded me out later in the shower when I reached behind my head to find… nothing. It was long overdue, though; I think the guy had to use garden shears to get started. It’s good now, but before it looked a bit like the wool of a sheep that liked to roll around in rose bushes, and had hospitalized the last three people who had tried to shear it.
I told that last bit to L., thinking I’m all clever. “Oh honey,” she sighed, “It didn’t look that good.”