She did it for a good cause, however. There's an organization called Locks of Love, who take donated human hair (minimum 10 inches long) and make it into wigs for needy pediatric cancer paitients who have lost their hair as a result of chemotherapy.
It's a pain to take care of hair that long, and she's been anxious to cut it off. After we returned to Boston from Maine, we rented a car and made an appointment at a local hair salon.
The car we rented was a Saab 93, a sporty little sedan, and my wife fell in love with it. Unfortunately, I somehow hurt my back and couldn't drive. The temperature in Boston plummeted into single digits, and the streets were coated with sheets of ice. My wife didn't let that slow her down, and she sprinted around in that hot car like she was being chased by the police.
We arrived at the salon, which was bustling with customers at 5:00 p.m. I assumed that this was because so many women are now working, salons must stay open after normal working hours. The stylist wasted no time, tying rubber bands around bundles of hair and lopping them off.
My daughter had picked out this style:
The stylist worked on her hair for a surprisingly long time, layering and structuring the cut. Meanwhile, around me, other women were having their hair done, undergoing elaborate procedures involving caustic substances requiring the stylists to wear rubber gloves and protective goggles. I have no idea what all of this costs, but I think it's fair to say that most men are clueless about the stuff women go through to look the way they do.
When it was all over, my daughter was thrilled and giddy.