Who's That Girl?

You know those movies where the protagonist locks eyes with herself in a bathroom mirror before she chops inches off her hair and covers her head with an inky dye that transforms her identity into one that no one will recognize when she steps outside that lonely motel she found on her way out of town?

That's kind of what I did yesterday, except I was sitting in a salon chair, happily informing the stylist I've known for the last few years that I was ready for a change. 

I arrived home with a fresh bob and dark brown hair, which replaced my blonde highlights and shoulder-length layers. I looked in the mirror and wondered if I unknowingly stumbled into the witness protection program. 

Still, I arrived at school, where I surely detected a few double-takes, but everyone knew my name. They even had the grace to tell me they loved my new look. One kid even said it was "tuff."

On my way home, I didn't hop on I-66 West for a faraway adventure and a new life. I parked my car in front of my house. Walking in, I caught a glimpse of my reflection and said, "Hey girl, lookin' good."