Short cuts

We came across some older photos over the weekend.
The Husband just ~loved~ the one of me with long, flowing hair.
"Look at you!" he raved.  "It's hanging half way to your butt!"

Ironically, that photo reminded me that I wanted to get a haircut.
Hm.

So, after everyone left for school and work, I cut it myself.
Just a couple inches.
Just so much as I could gather as a ponytail and pull to one side, clip, and then pull to the other side, clip.

A co-worker noticed right away.
A male co-worker.
So that proves it was a noticable difference, right?

When The Husband saw me, he did a head tilt, grinned and told me my hair looked really good.
"You must be having a good hair day, huh?" he asked.
"I guess so."

Later, he mentioned my hair again.
"I really like it today."
"What about it do you like?"  Yes, I was baiting him, thank you very much.
"I dunno.  It's fluffy."
"Ah ha!" I pounced.  "I cut it!  So you *do* like my hair short! Ha!"
"I never said I didn't.  It still touches your shoulder, so it's fine."

Hm.
Truly, I thought victory would taste much sweeter.