After three years of carefully cultivating my locks Dad says it is time for a new look. When we walked in I clung onto Dad for dear life as it looked a bit like that clinic place where they stick sharp things into you that are really sore. Eventually I calmed down and they placed a board across a chair for me to sit on. A nice lady then washed my hair and then I moved to another chair where I could look into a mirror where I watched my tresses fall to the floor in a messy heap. As you can see the final result is a whole new me.
