Hair today, gone tomorrow. (Forgive me.)

I never went all-out and did dreadlocks or anything, but my hair has typically been a dead giveaway of my crunchiness. For the last few years, it's fallen somewhere on the spectrum between "Just-Got-Out-Of-Bed Waves" to "Homeless." 

For the majority of my time as a field guide, it leaned more toward the latter. I am convinced this is why - even in Durango, the Mecca of Crunch, for crying out loud - I used to attract a lot of suspicious glares at the public library. The librarians loved to bust me for eating granola bars at the computer stations.

The last time I got a professional haircut was in October '08, and that was because I was ambushed for a makeover during Durango's Fashion Week. Yes, believe it or not, The Worst-Dressed City in America has a Fashion Week. I was a classic "Before" picture, too - I went to Trimble Hot Springs the night before, slept on wet hair, and threw a hat on before going to the farmer's market in the morning. I looked glorious.

In the past, as many as three years have been known to pass between visits to the salon. I am simply reluctant to cough up money for something I can (sort of) do myself. I have scissors. I have a mirror. What's the big deal?

But today - well, today I took the plunge. Fresh semester, fresh start. (I also don't want to frighten anyone out of an interview.)

Ladies and gentlemen -

Before.

(At my absolute grodiest in the field. Estimated time since last shower: seven days.)

After.

(In my fancy-pants Brooklyn apartment. Estimated time since last shower: three hours. What is HAPPENING to me?)