Chop Chop

Saturday, I went and got my hair TOTALLY chopped off. And I hate it. I actually loved my hair, but it had gotten really really long, and working two jobs does not good haircare make. It's short. Real short. Part of me is horrified, part of me is like, "Eh, at least it'll grow back." I'm getting lots of obligatory compliments, but most include words like "cute" and "darling" and "sweet." So much for "sexy mutha fucka." I think I look like a fat Penelope Ann Miller.

My neck, which hasn't been exposed in like 20+ years (seriously), is always cold. And my hair keeps brushing the collar of my shirts which is fairly irritating. And it flies into my face when I drive. And I knew I had a lot of heavy hair, but I must have always SWUNG it around, cause my hair sails around dramatically like I'm in a shampoo commercial every time I turn to look at something to the right or left. I've already told Beau my new hair should be an accentuating partner when we have our next fight. I'm going to use its body and bounce to enhance my rage. He's looking forward to it. He's already greatly amused by my occasional foot stomps.

I've been wearing my hair long for years and years now. In 4th grade, my grandma kept telling me, "You would look SO cute in a pixie!" For those not in the know, a "pixie" on a girl is akin to a bowl cut on a guy, a la Julia Robert's "Tinkerbell" in Hook. Shocked after the haircut, my aunt offered to "fix" my hair on that first day at school. She did something complicated with a curling iron, I went to school, and was the laughing stock for hours. I remember doing something I never did before, simply took off by myself during school hours and went somewhere to cry. I know! Sad, right? But there's more! Since I was a tomboy at the time wearing knee-high stripped socks, tennis shoes, and other sporty clothes, my gender instantly became netural, and I was asked on MORE than one occasion thereafter by adults, "Are you a boy or a girl?" The one that really broke my heart was the owner of a small bookstore in a strip mall not too far from my home. I used to frequent FREQUENTLY his establishment since he sold both Choose Your Own Adventures and Piers Anthony's Xanth series books. I couldn't understand how he didn't recognize me, a frequent customer, and stung, didn't go back to the bookstore for a long time.

Pretty traumatizing for a 9 year old.

Since then, my hair has never gone above my shoulders. Basically, it's been loooooooong, usually approaching my waist, at which point I get sick to death of it, and then chop it to my shoulders. Rinse. Repeat.

I'd reached that point recently. I went to the salon and got it chopped. As typical when you cut very long hair into short hair, it's pretty unsettling, but I was used to that feeling. With fairly damp hair, I left the hairdresser, holding my bag of my old hair. Gross, but I'm hoping to donate it to Locks of Love. Since my new hair was so short, I was wondering how long it would take to get used to the change.

Then my hair dried.

Remember, I have naturally wavy hair, so as my hair dried, it got higher and higher. For the first time since 4th grade, the back of my neck hit air. Brrrrrr! Oh well. As Randy Travis sang, "Honey, I don't care. I'm not in love with your hair. And if it all fell out, I'd love you anyway."

Maybe tomorrow morning I'll sprinkle some Miracle Grow in my shampoo. It works great for my tomatoes.