Here’s The Terrifying Reason I Had to Cut My Own Hair This Weekend

It's Monday, and I am still not over the emotional trauma that I endured yesterday. Something awful happened to me, and I will never be the same. 

What happened, Meg? Let me tell you, dear reader.

I had to cut about three inches off of my own hair.

Why? That doesn't sound too terrible. You're wrong there, sweet innocent internet buddy. So wrong.

You see, I had to cut my own hair FREE. It was stuck on something--something truly awful. It wasn't a hairbrush or a necklace or anything benign... it was a FLY TRAP.

A GLUE FLY TRAP.

AND THERE WERE FLIES ON IT. Dead, gross flies. Filled with the plague and germs and whatever vile things insects are or do.

Ugggggggggh. Just writing about it brings back the horror.

I was in the kitchen, minding my own business. I'd forgotten that I had to hang up a roll of fly paper earlier in the week, and I bent down to pick up something that I'd dropped. I raised my head back up, and in that instant I knew I was doomed.

I screamed bloody murder and begged my husband to come help me--which he did (after he stopped laughing). We were able to pull the trapped/stuck/cursed section of hair free, but it was matted and covered in flydeathglue.

I didn't know what else to do, so I chopped away. I gave myself long bangs. It's not the worst thing--but the memories are.