Saturday, February 2, 2013

So Long, Long Hair.

All of my life, I have worn my hair long.  I have my mom to thank for that.  She loved long hair.  I (and my parents) endured long, painful sessions of detangling on a weekly basis.  Dad would leave.  Nobody blamed him.  I screamed throughout most of these sessions because I would get these gnarly knots in the back of my head.  No matter what my mother did to prevent them; braids, treatments, pony tails, once a week I had a knot the size of a softball in my hair.

God bless my mother.  She never lost her patience or raised her voice at me during these sessions.  Sometimes, she'd hum.  I squirmed and would often try to move.  It was so bad once, that while mom let go of me to spray me down with some Johnson's No More Tangles spray, I escaped.  I ran for it!  I ran into the kitchen.  I was so happy to get away, that I failed to notice the door to the basement was wide open.  Yep.  I fell down the stairs, breaking my collar bone.  I was two years old and my hair was down to the middle of my back.

As I grew older, the gnarly knot went away.  Okay, I learned how to care for my own hair.  I loved when other kids mentioned that my hair was so long that I could sit on it.  Mom would "braid me" every day, setting it with Dippity Do.  I miss that smell.

Then one day Mom and I decided, on a whim, to go get our ears pierced.   We snuck off to Kay Jewelers in P.G. Plaza ( I think that's where we were) and did it.  We giggled as we walked toward dad, both of us putting our hair behind our ears.  Finally he noticed, and wasn't thrilled.  Mom felt a bit dejected that he didn't approve.  Still, we were thrilled.  And, Ma said, "They'll look so cute in your school picture!"  I thought about that.  Pictures were being taken the next day.  After we were home for a while, I went into the bathroom.  I looked at my swell new earrings.  They were kind of hard to see.  Aha!  I know!  I'll just give myself a little trim.  A little more.  Just a bit more.  Well, Mom sobbed.  She took me to some barber and explained the situation.  Not much could be done.  Angry, the next morning Mom tried everything.  Finally she just pushed a few bobby pins into my head (that's what it felt like... mom was PISSED), and said, "You hair is ruined, but dammit, those earrings will show now!" 

Uh... yeah.
That was probably one of just a few times in my life where my hair has been short.  I just don't look good with short hair.  I think the only real time I liked my short hair was when a girlfriend of mine stopped by out of the blue once.  Suddenly, she was cutting my hair.  A perfect Joan Jett shag.  I LOVED it.  Still, as much as I loved it, I let it grow out.  I have never maintained a short cut.  EVER.

Fast-forward to two years ago.  I wanted to let my long hair grow even longer.  Almost a dare.  I saw a photo of an actress and loved  her short shag.  It kind of reminded me of the cut I loved so much so long ago.  This actress is just a few years older than I am.  I shrugged it off.

Locks of Love
Fast-forward again to present day.  My hair is just above my butt.  27.5 inches long.  I have stopped coloring it, too.  I hate the chemicals.  HATE them. Long hair is lovely.  I love all of the really cool braids I have taught myself. Still, I find that I literally get tangled in it when I sleep.  I have come very close to catching myself  on fire so many times.  My hair touches the burners on the stove. So, I decided to just go and do it.  It was easier than I thought it would be.  I had a great stylist.  She knew my fears and concerns.  She praised me for not coloring it.  Before long, I had an audience.  People like to watch people do drastic things to themselves.  A collective gasp sounded as she began cutting the ponytail off. 

One of the first things I noticed was that the processed "brown" was completely gone.  What was left is what you see.  Silver.  Then she washed it using a shampoo for silver locks.After all was said and done, it is a lot shorter than I had planned on going.  Rob and Alex had a bet:  When would Ma start saying that she hated it.  So far, no winners.

Frosted and I didn't even try!

I do like it.  I'm not in love with it... yet.  I think once it grows out a bit and after the shock of it wears off, I'll grow to love it.  No pun intended.  This time, I will keep up with the trimmings.  Or maybe I won't.  I think I will, though. So now, it's off to Locks of Love for my beloved long locks. 

Now, I need to learn how to live with short hair.  No more whip-arounds.  No more tons of conditioner (Yay).  No more braids.  No more dusting it.  I think I'll be okay.  Don't ever let anyone, any magazine tell you how you should wear your hair.  It's what makes us part of who we are.  If you're fifty and want long hair, by all means, let it grow!  There are no rules.  No hair police.  It's just hair.  Relax.  Or perm. 

Until next time,

Be good to yourselves.

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