If any of you have stuck with me over the last year you know that I struggled with cutting my hair. Here is a sample of that struggle.
Well, I did it. It was back in April that I finally decided to chop it off. All the weddings were over and the new baby was here. I spent a ridiculous four weeks fighting a cold that was worthy of the record books and it was time.
Cutting almost two feet of hair was strangely enough, not scary or tearful. It was a simple matter of fact. Boom, cut it off.
The stylist, who I have worked with before, was probably more nervous than I. He took loads of before and after shots and was super considerate of my feelings (had I any regrets etc.)
I really liked it. I loved it in fact. It looked exactly like I imagined it would. Credit to my stylist of course.
Then a couple weeks go by…
Yes, it is a lovely hair cut. Yes, it suits me. Four weeks pass, time for a trim.
It’s getting longer, not long but a little bit longer; six weeks pass.
Three hair cut appointments canceled. Now it’s summer.
What happened to my Marcia Brady hair? What, I can’t make a pony tail? No, short hair is NOT cool in the heat, I want to pull it up.
It’s a strange feeling. I had to dig deep to figure out what was bothering me and why I couldn’t keep this lovely chic hair cut.
I missed my hair. I missed tangling it through my fingers. I missed braiding it when I was in a tense situation. I missed all of my hair toys.
What does this all mean? Am I unable to live without my hair. Yup. Once I was finally able to get my hair healthy enough (thank you LivingProof) to grow long I needed it. We were “co-dependent” if hair can have dependendencies.
Happily, it’s growing out. Even better, I have no regrets. It was a great hair cut. It looked beautiful but just like I’ve always been I need to color outside the box and use every single crayon, I need to play around with my hair.
Now, if I could only stop biting my damn fingernails!