Two Tears For Every Inch

I got my hair cut today.
Its a sad, sad day.
Every few months or so, I'll get a sudden vibe that I NEED a haircut. This vibe is usually followed two or three minutes later by a frantic phone call to Design Line to see if June is available to cut my locks, right then. Of course, she's not, so I make an appointment for the next day, unless that's not available, I hang up, and make an impulse decision to go to Master Cuts. No joke. I've done it. Twice.
I always have a really good idea of what I want my hair to look like, or how much I want cut off but then I get there, panic, and tell her to just trim the edges and the bang. Tonight, (June happened to have a cancellation at 6:15 tonight when I called this afternoon) I had to have someone else explain what I wanted done, because I started to lie, and the words "just trim the.." were rolling off my tongue. But whether it goes according to plan or not, I ALWAYS go through withdrawal.
I walked out of Design Line today and tears were welling up in my eyes. I begin to pet the ends, missing Bottom Two Inches. Bottom Two Inches have been there the longest, and have seen the most of my life than any other inches. I feel like I have betrayed them. BTI, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I didn't mean to just cut you out of my life and these last years have meant a lot to me.
I just wish I could have said good bye.
May you rest in peace, BTI, forever in the Miracle Mile dumpster.
Or at least until seven tomorrow morning when the garbage man comes to collect you.
Then may you rest in peace while depleting the ozone layer in a South American waste land.