I cut my hair. I was sick of it. And I was always hot. It was a bad choice. I went through I mini grief cycle the day I did it.
Denial: "It's not that short, right girls?"  Chloe and Macie: "Uh Mom, it is short."  Me: "well is there anything you think I could do to make it look better?" Chloe: "You could put it in a ponytail?"
Anger: "Why did I cut my hair! Bad Melissa, BAD!!"  "Don, don't tell me you like it, you know you are just lying!"
Depression: "I look terrible. Ho Hum, I guess I will just sit on this couch and feel sorry for my hideousness."
Bargaining: "I know, I'll call Katie. And Emily. And Rachelle. And...."
Acceptance: "Oh well, hair grows back. It is not the end of the world."

And I also went to the store that very day and bought 2 bottles of Biotin (aka my bottles of placebos)