The Dormouse's latest ambition is to be... pause for dramatic effect... "a Hair Barber." She takes any opportunity to rejoice in the random mess that is my hair.

A couple of Sundays ago, I let her do a hairstyle for me and she delightedly ran to the bathroom and returned with every hair product I ever even thought about purchasing. Then she spent at least thirty minutes spraying, combing, arranging, spraying, banding, spraying, and spraying my hair. Then she sprayed it once more for good measure. When I was done, I no longer had a head of hair but rather a helmet of hair. I immediately had to make excuses that I desperately needed a shower in order to wash out the half a bottle of hair spray that she'd used on this lovely updo.

This weekend, I was a bit desperate for a trim and it takes a good four weeks lead time to get into my regular stylist these days. So when we were in the mall on Saturday, I stopped into one of those mall hair salons and just asked for a "slight trim - not a new style, just a trim, do not cut more than a quarter inch off anything I swear to you by all that is good and holy, I just want a trim!" I got The Dormouse's hair cut as well and paid a little over half for both of us compared to what I normally do for just me at my regular place.

I don't know how she did it but the woman didn't cut more than a quarter inch from anywhere and yet still managed to mess that up. I am spectacularly unhappy with my haircut right now. Which is saying a lot if you know how much of a rat's behind I do not care about my hair most of the time. Now I am looking wistfully at these photos and thinking, "Oh look how nice my hair looked back then. Maybe I should just let The Dormouse cut it from now on."

Morale of the story: You get what you pay for.