"What are you afraid of?"
"Honestly...I'm afraid of giving up my heterosexual privilege."
She paused. Looked at me.
"All the more reason to do it."
She was right.
So I ignored the gnawing in the pit of my stomach and let the pierced, tattooed, young girl take scissors to my hair.
This was the end result:
(That's me on the left with my friend J.)
Desperate housewife? Not a chance. (I don't think I need the rainbow bracelets anymore either, huh?)