Well, the second worst ... the very worst, I realize in retrospect, was when I was in first grade and my mother, tired of my kicking and screaming when she tried to brush through my mass of naturally curly hair, grabbed a pair of scissors and cut my tresses all the way up to my ears.

I was too young to care when that happened, though.

Anyway, I let a friend ... a licensed cosmetologist ... cut my hair in July 2007. She gave me a very short cut that I didn't ask for (in fact, I asked her to keep the length and just trim up the layers) and that didn't suit me at all.

I spent the next year growing my hair back out, and the next 16 months after that doing my best to maintain it as it got too long. At first I would just wet it and use mousse so the natural curls would take over, but as it got longer I couldn't do that anymore and started straightening it with a flat iron.

Before I knew it, more than two years had passed and my hair was halfway down my back.

About a week ago, my 18-year-old daughter informed me I was too old to wear my hair so long. I started thinking about it, and realized she was right.

I needed to face my fears and get myself a haircut.

A couple of days ago, I decided I was going to go for it.

My hair was pretty dried out and damaged from the months of flat-ironing, so I knew I was going to have to go short if I was just going to keep my healthy hair. After consulting with my assistant editor about where he got his hair cut, I found myself at the Styling Station on Washington Street.

My stylist ended up being Ashton -- my boss' daughter. She impressed me right away because she actually asked me what I wanted rather than just coming at me with scissors and hacking away. We talked about what would look good and what wouldn't before she even started.

At the end of it all, there was about 10 pounds of hair on the floor. But I liked my new haircut, and it felt so much better. I even asked Ashton to wax my brows ... something I've never done before but that my daughter has always insisted I needed and that my friend Emily describes as "a mini facelift."

Ashton must be good, because she barely hurt me at all.

I've gotten lots of nice comments on my new do, and I like it. I'm still learning how to handle it, though ... short though it is, it still requires some maintenance.

I'm glad that, more than a year after I got here, I at last have a hairdresser. I made another appointment for four weeks from now ... touch-ups for the holidays.

Here's to good hair days!