the price of fame

So while I was in lab on Thursday morning, I got a call from some guy at the casting agency wanting to schedule me for a costume fitting. Apparently I was actually chosen to be an extra in this movie. I was probably not as excited about it as most of the other people I told but I was pretty happy -- I like dressing in costume and the idea of catching a glimpse of Harrison Ford and the possibility of making it into a major Hollywood film. And I definitely wasn't expecting anything out of this -- I had gone to the casting call only because it sounded like a fun way to escape the hectic morning hours in lab.

The guy on the phone scheduled me for an appointment the same day, so I got to leave lab a little early (which ultimately is a bad thing, since now I have to go in both days this weekend). I drove downtown and, after filling out some paperwork, a costume person brought me clothes to try on until she had put together her vision of a collegiate 50's outfit. It is pretty cute. I could probably deal with living in the 50's. I had my picture taken in the clothes, changed out of them, and was sent off to "hair".

Yeah, hair... about that...
So my hair is naturally curly but I prefer to wear it straight when I can -- I think it better suits my personality and style. Lately though I've just been letting it air dry because I'm a lazy ass and nothing I've been doing has required me to look cute (sadly). When I went to see the woman in charge of hair, though, she loved my curls and gushed about how great my hair will look when I set it in curlers. She just needed to cut it "a little" to make it look more authentic. I expressed my hesitation -- I've held off from cutting my hair these past few months because I thought the length was perfect. Hair woman reassured me that she would only need to take off "two inches", and that I could say no if I'd rather not. She kind of pressed me to let her do it and I figured that two inches isn't that bad for hair that probably could use a trim, anyway. So I stood up to let her cut my hair, since they didn't have any salon chairs to use. I wasn't able to look in the mirror until she had finished, and when I did I was numbed with shock.
A visual demonstration:

me and my hair, a month ago

me and my hair today

More than two inches? I report, you decide. (hint: yes)

ughhhhhhhhhhhh. I have been bitching about it a lot and all the responses have been "come on, it's not that short", but to me it is that short. It barely touches my shoulders. I would never cut my hair this short by my own will and it's probably going to take about four months to reach a length I like. It's something I'm going to have to live with for awhile.

This had better be a damn good movie.