It's frickin raining part2

What I AM upset about with this new moist weather we are having today is:Dammit! i just got my hair did!
For those who know, my hair is (WAS) down past my ass. Veeeeeery long. Well, yesterday my dear sister decided she wanted to blow dry my hair straight, which is not an easy feat for anyone. (For God's sake, my regular hairdresser ended up with arthritis and everyone jokes that it was because she had to do my hair) Now this was all pre-baby. I haven't had my hair professionally done since I got pregnant. Sitting down for four hours under a hair dryer and then getting it blown straight...No. Not for a pregnant woman who couldn't even sit through a whole movie. So- my sister was all "Let me cut your ends, you have a lot of dead ends."
No.
Hell no.
See I have this problem that when people say "I'm just going to cut your ends." I end up with half my hair butchered off. When I say "I just want an inch off." it somehow translates into people's minds as "Cut as much as you want, i don't mind." Fuck that, I DO mind. The reason my hair is so long is because when I was a 14 I went to a hairdresser that I didn't know (mistake #1) and trusted her (mistake #2) to just cut my ends. I ended up with my once-halfway-down-my-back hair right below my ears. I guess she heard me say "Leave me with the ends." Needless to say she didn't get paid, I left there in tears, and there was nothing I could do but wait till it grew. And I haven't cut it since. (Except for the inch I would cut every six months with my trusted now-arthritic hairdresser.)
So last night found me sitting on a chair in the middle of my living room with a towel wrapped around my head turban-style arguing with my sister on why I didn't want her near me with scissors. Daddy found it hilarious, he was sitting on the couch with Little Man watching us like a sitcom.
"FINE. Just the ends." I tell her.
"Well, you have a lot of dead ends. You haven't had your hair done in ages... I may have to cut a few inches."
"Inches? NO."
"Di, it'll grow back. It's only hair."
"NO."
"Look, I'll show you where I'm going to cut." and she grabbed a chunk of my hair and showed me.
"That's too short." I said.
"Di, OMG! What is wrong with you? It's not like you do anything with it anyway!"
Huge sigh.
"Fine. Just the dead ends."

My hair was snipped (butchered, massacred) and she blow-dried it.
While it's straight it reaches the middle of my back. I'm afraid to see what it looks like when I wash it and get it curly again. I told her if one strand touches my shoulder I would cut all her hair off in her sleep.
So now it's raining and curly hair blown straight doesn't mix well with rain. I'll end up with a serious case of the fuzzies you see in the commercials...