I got my hair cut today.
On one hand, this is a big deal. I haven’t cut it (more than a trim, anyway) in more than a year. It was about halfway down my upper arm. My hair sort of grows ridiculously fast. To the tune of about an inch a month, so if I want to keep it styled, I have to get a trim every three-four weeks. My stylist (ooh, I sound so posh) only charges me half as long as I come in every four weeks, but still – more than every eight weeks, like when I grow it out.
But I have so much hair. It gets so heavy. I pulled out my ponytail when I sat down and the stylist (not my normal girl, but I’ve had her before) was all “holy crap, you have a ton of hair.” By her estimate, by the time we got the ponytail cut for Locks of Love, it was about two-three pounds of hair.
Two to three pounds. Of hair. On my head.
People, this is a lot. And I should know better, because when my hair is long, I constantly get headaches. I’ve definitely had more headaches in the last few months than I have in a long time. Just sort of the name of the game. But I was tired of it.
I was watching Desperate Housewives last night (my favorite <3) and at Susan and Jackson‘s engagement party, Lynette showed up with a new hairstyle.
Best. Hair. Ever.
I immediately BBMd Ashy and Lou, best friends and hair gurus. I explained what I wanted. Not surprisingly, Ashy had had the same reaction I did. We tend to have the same hair sense. We’ve been this way for 13 years. I no longer question it.
So, long story semi-short, I chopped it. Up to my shoulders. Actually, the longest layer is just touching the crease of my neck. And I was anxious before I went in, but like old news (and like Ashy predicted,) I loved it the second I stood up. And when I stood up, I felt so much lighter, without all that hair.
And it’s super-styled, of course.
So, the moral of this whole post is today, I am even more kickassingly awesome than I normally am.
Don’t be scared. We’ll be back to normal tomorrow.
Update: It occurs to me that I never added something about “the other hand.” Clearly, my story is one-sided and biased. Oh well. Deal.
Updated Part Deux: True to form, my dad said “I thought you were getting your hair cut. It doesn’t look any different.”
