I am not a vain person. There really hasn't even been any real call to be. Not ugly or terribly pretty; average, I think, which is good because, you know, beauty is a curse and all that. (HA!) However, I do have one above average redeeming feature; I have good hair. When I was born my hair was carrot red. It changed to a more strawberry blond as a child and now, via the magic of my hair guru Jenny, it is a lovely auburn red. It is finely textured, but there is a great deal of it and for most of my adult life I have kept it short. For some reason I thought it was just easier to have it short. (not true) A few years ago, whilst considering a bucket list, I decided I wanted long hair. Now girls, you know that out-grow period is like trudging through the desert. It takes FOREVER and in the past I've cried uncle way too soon and chopped it off again. This time though, this time I was victorious! I had long hair and no, I don't have a before picture because even though the hair on top of it is good, by brain frequently disappoints. So anyway, it was long. Well into the middle of my back. All one length, except for bangs, and healthy.
A sort of weird thing happens when you grow your hair long; it becomes more a part of you. I know, I told you it was weird. It becomes like a security blanket. Maybe I shouldn't speak for others with long hair. For me.....I was pretty in love with it and let me tell you, it was easy to care for. Get up, brush, go. Or, braid or bun or ponytail or any darn thing you feel like. Long hair is the perfect thing for an essentially lazy person like me. Another plus for my hair is that it has some natural wave, so even though it was long, it never got the lank, stringy look. (Ok, I'm vain.)
So here is where it gets crazy. Maybe I was feeling old, or just needed a change, or ran out of chocolate, but for some reason I just wasn't liking what I was seeing in the mirror. I was starting to feel like all that hair wasn't so attractive on my 57 year old head. By the way, you do know that there is a rule that every woman over 45 must have short hair, right? I am such a rebel. Anyway, one day a woman standing in line at the grocery store asked me if I belonged to a religion where I had to have long hair and I freaked out a little bit. Was all this hair bad on me? I have a round face and a lovely little genetic gift from my mother that we like to call turkey neck. Maybe all this hair was starting to make me look like Honey Boo Boo's mama June? Mrs. Potato Head? You know how it gets when you start down the girly rabbit hole. All rational thought abandons me.
I decided to cut it. I consulted my daughter, and husband, and anyone who would stand still long enough to listen and got mixed results. I sent a couple of pictures to hair guru Jenny who very tactfully suggested that this was a very large change I was considering and perhaps I should take a bit more time to think. Right. Don't cut it. No, cut it. Cut it just a little. Leave it alone. ACK.
In the end, the lovely Jenny, who is patient and kind and always tells me like it is, cut a couple of inches off the bottom and added a few long layers. We also decided to try and grow the bangs out. I watched her cut and texture and got a little scared. Then I saw the pile of hair on the floor as she swept it up and felt like I was going to pass out. What had I done? I wanted it back! How could I have even for a minute thought this was a good idea? Jenny dried it and curled it and talked me off the ledge. If I really don't like it, I can grow the layers back out. Go home, live with it for a bit. It will be ok.
And it is.
I really need to go the the Kim Kardashian school of selfie taking. I'm horrible at it.
It's still long enough to braid, etc, but the layers give it a little movement. Well done, Jenny. Jury is still out on the bangs. Keep or grow. It's always something.
I'm not unhappy with the cut, but I wonder what triggers these little episodes of crazy. Does this happen to all women, or am I the only one that suddenly decides that a change must be made and then obsess over it for a few weeks? How many times does this behavior leek over into other areas of my life?
Ah well, self examination is never a bad thing and neither is change. It's all about living and learning.
And good hair.