I’ve always had very thick hair. It’s thicker than just about anyone else’s I know. When I was little, it was a huge burden for me and my mother. My mother would fix my hair every morning resulting in physical pain for me and emotional pain for her.

As I got older, I learned how to fix my own hair in the best way I could. I became very good at it and would get compliments on my hair daily. I would eventually consider my hair my best asset. Very few people had hair like mine.

I first got the idea to donate my hair to Locks of Love a few years ago. My hair had almost always been long. After a brief “short” phase in high school, I continued to keep my hair longer. A little over a year ago, I decided to actually go through with it. I started growing my hair out longer than usual.

After a year of not cutting it at all, my hair came down to the waist band of my pants. It was by far the longest it had ever been in my life. While I enjoyed having long luscious hair for a while, I eventually became annoyed by it and knew it was time. Unfortunately I was always chickening out. I was second guessing myself. I had spent so much time growing it out that I hated to lose it. My vanity was taking over my good will.

Then one day while I was at work, a young woman came into the store where I worked. She was very skinny and frail looking, and had a hat covering her bald head. She in fact had cancer. As she proceeded try on different hats it hit me like a ton of bricks; I had to cut my hair so that people like her could have hair again. That day I made an appointment to cut my hair off. She was here trying on cute hats to cover her head and I had more than enough hair to share.

Last Thursday, I cut 11 inches off of my head. I was amazed how much lighter I felt. Once the hair was gone, I didn’t think about it again.

I love my new haircut and I love the idea of giving someone with cancer a chance to feel better about this terrible time in their life. I was blessed with thick hair so why not share the blessing?

I am not, nor have I ever been, a party girl. I’ve never even been that big of a drinker. I’ve gone out on occasion, but I’ve never been too crazy. I can recall the moment I was scared “sober,” allowing me to dodge any kind of drunken behavior.

When I was in college the last Friday of the semester before finals was known as “Dead Day,” because the university would cancel all classes allowing students to study and prepare for finals week. The night before “Dead Day” (Thursday night) was obviously known as “Dead Day Eve.”

“Dead Day Eve” was the biggest party night of the entire semester. This is when students would go out, get drunk, and party into the wee hours of Dead Day. This was a college tradition that my dorm roommate, Shayna, couldn’t resist. She and her high school friend, party girl Jessica, had the night planned out and encouraged me to come along. With our other friend Brooke in tow, the four of us headed out for our first fabulous Dead Day Eve celebration of freshmen year.

Brooke and I were not party girls and were not experience in the college party atmosphere. We ended up at a house party on the edge of another university campus in town. This house was a small two bedroom shack with very little furniture and an overabundance of people. A thick cloud of smoke welcomed us as we walked through the front door. I noticed that the smoke didn’t always smell like cigarettes; a smell I was familiar with. This smell was…..sweet. I would later find out that the sweet smell was marijuana.

When a minor beer run was announced, Shayna and Jessica bolted for the alcohol leaving Brooke and I alone in a room full of strangers. We had both just gotten brand new winter coats and were regretting wearing them into the house when a drunken guy stumbled into us almost lighting my coat on fire.

“Hey!” I exclaimed as he stumbled away. Brooke and I looked at each other with horror. Where were we and how much long did we have to stay? There was no room to move in the house because of all the people. We found the one and only couch in the house but it was occupied a girl who had passed out. She lay sideways on the couch, eyes closed and mouth open. Two guys sat on both sides of her smoking and drinking. I wondered who this girl was. Who was she here with? Did they know she was passed out? What if something happens to her? What would her mother think if she could see her daughter right now? Brooke interrupted my thoughts when she asked if I was ready to get out of there. I happily agreed.

We finally found Shayna and Jessica and asked them if they were ready to leave. They had just paid some guy to go buy them beer and weren’t ready to leave yet. Brooke got the car keys from Shayna and she and I spent the rest of the night outside in Shayna’s car. We waited for what seemed like hours until finally Shayna agreed to drive us home and then return to the party.

When Brooke and I finally made it back to the dorms, we vowed never to do that again. For the rest of our college careers we spent Dead Day Eve at the movie theater.

To this day the image of that disgusting house with drunk and high people everywhere has stuck with me. I think this is probably why I stayed away from hard core partying. I never wanted to end up like the girl on the couch.

I am reluctant to say that I have abandoned my blog the past week and a half. There is no excuse for my behavior, but that doesn’t mean I will come up with several excuses to make myself feel better.

After my laptop had a meltdown, I went to my hometown for a visit two weekends in a row. With all of the computer trouble and traveling I barely had time to think about what to blog about. Really.

Our new dog Sammie is adjusting well to her new home. After a few mishaps, she is learning the schedule of things. She now knows that she is to go number 1 AND 2 outside and not inside. Unfortunately, my new bundle of puppy joy sheds like an Eskimo on a hot day. Luckily, I’ve invested in a Swiffer. Without it my apartment would be one big hairy mess.

After driving south to spend Easter with my family, the shop where I work shot a commercial and segment for a local news program. On Wednesday, I arrived at work an hour and a half early to shoot the segment. After modeling that morning and working the rest of the day, I went to ballet class where I worked on a hippy-artsy routine with my fellow ballerinas. The long day must have taken a toll of me because I slept late on Thursday morning. This wasn’t a big deal because that is my day off. I spent the rest of the day Goodwill hopping where I managed to find several pieces of designer clothes and a cool baseball lamp. That made the busy week all worth it.

So there. Those are my excuses and an update. I feel a little better. I'm posting a picture of my mom, brother, and I on Easter and the link to my shop's segment on Show Me St. Louis.