Not a pixie

Last Saturday I got a pretty drastic haircut.  10 inches of hair were separated from my head.  I did this despite much concern from loved ones and a comment from a guy who said, "No man wants to be with a girl with really short hair."

I wanted it short.  What I mean by short is this:

But no, I did not end up with this haircut.  I went with a short round bob sort of like the fabricant hairdo from Cloud Atlas.  Except without the bangs.

It's only been two weeks.  The jury is out on whether a man wants to be with a girl with short hair.  It could be the short hair.  Or the fact I have been sick and grumpy.  Or the fact that I rarely go out and mostly hang out with lady people at wine bars.

If it does turn out to be true, I am okay with that.  I am in a seahorse phase right now, sort of bobbing along in the ocean alone, as described in the "Girl's Guide to Hunting and Fishing."  It hasn't really changed the way that I interact with the world in a noticeable way.  I like the idea that it will narrow the field down to the one single guy in NYC who likes 40 something, short, goofy, round faced, apple shaped chicks with short hair who wear glasses.  Whoever he is, I'll bet he's the coolest.

"Some enchanted evening
 You may see a stranger
 You may see him standing
 Across a crowded room"
      -Oscar Hammerstein II, South Pacific