Time passed, as it does, and the girls' names were finally called. My oldest has outgrown this salon, according to her, so it was me and my two younger girls. The youngest went first and opted for the most modest trim allowable, just the dead ends, nothing more. She is quite partial to her long hair and wanted to give up only the bare minimum.
But my middle daughter? Merrell? Well she was in all the way. She had the stylist break out her ruler to verify that her locks qualified for Locks of Love. They did. She had the requisite 10 inches. But not for long. They broke out that electric razor right away and cut straight across. It was quick, and dramatic, and final. There was no going back.
In about 30 seconds she went from this: