Now you’re probably thinking, “Oh, well pffft. Women get their hair cut all the time, big whoop.” Yes, women do. I DO NOT. My hair has not been this short since 1985. It was so long for so long that it had become part of my identity. People describing me to others used the phrases Girl with The Big Hair and Chick with The 80s Hair more often than not. These descriptions had begun to mildly horrify me over the past few years, but not enough to change anything. I was comfortable with the sentient mass, even on days I hated it for not behaving worth a crap. The thought of taming it was actually kind of scary.
I’d been getting really sick of it, though, especially lately. More than once I threatened to just shave my head a la Vygr from Star Trek. Then, last week I finally decided I had dropped enough weight to avoid looking like a balloon animal with short hair, so I went for it before I could chicken out and stick with the comfy, annoying status quo. Walking into that salon was almost as nerve wracking as going to the dentist for me. What if the sentient mass had been amplifying my brain power all these years? I’d walk out dumber! Oh no!
|Same dork, new hair!|
Brian remarked the other day how much he likes this do and said it’s like I’m a whole new woman. I’m happy with who I am now, so cutting my hair was like cutting the chain to past baggage that I’m no longer willing to drag around. Who knew a simple haircut could be so liberating? It’s also had some other advantages!
• The 4,011 ponytail holders in our house are now free cat toys (moar wigouts).
• Bed Head is even more entertaining with short hair (it being naturally curly helps).
• I could be cross-dressing Einstein for Halloween (or Beethoven. Win.).
• Showers are quicker (yay, water conservation).
Apparently, change really is good. And if the soundtrack from Hair isn’t running through your brain right now, well, I just don’t even know you.