I love my hair. It's wavy and full, fabulous, and totally not under my control. I've been growing it out for seven or eight years now, and I loved the length -- right up until about three weeks ago when I just got so tired of pulling it out of my way. It was heavy when up and everywhere when down, and I got to be so annoyed with it that I threatened to shave my head (which would have looked REALLY awful).
Finally, I said to David, "I'm going to cut my hair short." And he said, "Ok."
"Really? You're ok with that? I thought you really liked my hair?"
"Yeah, I like your hair. I'll like it short, too. In fact, I think it'll be really cute."