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YOU: Say, how'd your haircut go?

ME: My head was pillaged.

YOU: Um. (Raising eyebrows -- I can sense this over the Interwebs so watch out.) Huh?

ME: My head was pillaged. As in raped and pillaged.

YOU: Oh.

ME: Yeah.

YOU: What does that even mean?

ME: It means that my head was ransacked. That she cut off all of my hair. All of it. It's gone.

YOU: (Giving me that look you give me when I'm being melodramatic.)

ME: I am not being melodramatic. I told her to cut 3-4 inches off. And you've seen how long my hair is. Well, now it brushes the tops of my shoulders. And even though I am 29 years old and should know by now that every. single. time I let someone give me layers I hate hate HATE them, I was seduced by the hair lady's cute shiny hair and all those cute shiny layers and when she asked if I wanted any layers I was all, "Yeah, but not too short" as if I had, like, planned it all out before hand that I was going to get layers even though I had actually practiced what I was going to tell her and it did not include layers.

STILL ME: (Taking a breath.) But so anyway my point is that I let the cute hair lady give me layers and so it makes my tiny hair look even shorter because some of the hairs only touch the bottom of my chin.

STILL ME: My chin. (For emphasis.)

YOU: Whoa. But surely it can't be that bad.

ME: Midget hair.

YOU: What?

ME: Midget hair. I have midget hair.

YOU: (Laughing) Is it cute at least?

ME: When the hair lady did it, it was kind of cute, but when I dry it at night and then wake up in the morning, it goes straight into a ponytail because it is not cute. But that's not the point. Because my hair looks like that wool sweater you washed in hot water. (Come on, you know you've done that.)

YOU: Well, I'm sure it's fine. Now let me tell you about my day. (Insert random topic here.)

ME: (While you're talking, and sort of quietly...) Midget hair.