I realized recently that I think I have parting ways with my hair…it’s my security blanket. It’s one of those things that people comment on and say how nice it is. It’s definitely uniquely mine. The other day I realized how many excuses I was making on why I hadn’t gotten it trimmed: work, babysitting, projects company… This went on for easily two months.
I mean I, like many of you, have had that one cut that made it difficult to experiment or think too far outside of the box. For me, I popped into a Haircuttery one random day, asked for layers and a trim,and left missing 3 inches (which was ok…) but also looking like the Sphinx. It was blunt and lifeless- basically it was long hair with a bob cut around the top. I’d show you a picture but a)no photographic evident and b) I know better.
So I get a little apprehensive,I take baby steps every time, and my hair dude knows this. I go in this time (this was last Tuesday) and he basically says “good lord woman…is past your waist” so yeah.
We cut an inch….
Then two more…
Then one more for good measure…
oh hey MySpace looking picture…but can you see the concern in my eyes and eyebrow?
And now I’m sad and having separation anxiety. But it looks better- I think? Definitely healthier. And I know you’ll look at it and think “but you still have a crap ton of hair!” But I know what’s gone, and how it doesn’t move and curl like it used to…and after all it was STILL FOUR INCHES.
Maybe I’m being over dramatic…I don’t know.
any trauma hair stories from you lovelies?