…was not as traumatic as I thought it would be.
Now, hair, for some unknown reason, is incredibly important to women. And, come to think of it, a good deal of men if Rogaine commercials have taught me anything. That being said, I also understand that the state of my hair? Probably not that important to many people. But, if you’re reading this blog, maybe it is? But then maybe not? Do you really care? If not, feel free to move along…and please keep that under advisement for any of my prior, current or future posts. No hard feelings, no harm, no foul.*
I had been thinking about cutting it for months…but as acting matron-of-honor** in my sister’s wedding, I had kept the scissors at bay. Then, one day, the skies parted, angels began singing, and it was TIME. I was tired of waiting for the right time- and had no more excuses as the wedding had been over for two weeks.
So I booked an appointment with a hairdresser I had never met before <insert scary music here>. My hair had been past my shoulders, so when I showed her the pixie cut I was thinking of, I was pleasantly surprised when she said, “Cool- let’s do this.”
My kind of girl.
About an hour later- it was done- and my whole head felt like it was barely attached to my shoulders- the weight of all that hair was GONE. It was fabulous.
Hubby had to adjust to it a bit- but said it was cute- which was enough for me. It was when I got to work on Monday that I was blown away. Almost everyone I saw- friends, enemies, women, men, children, the fruit flies that like to congregate near my desk, even strangers that I just passed regularly in the hall- stopped me to say how much they liked my hair. I think my surprise came from a feeling that an acquaintance, another short-haired girl, expressed perfectly:
“Long hair equals beauty in our society- not everyone can see the beauty in a hairstyle that fits you- even if it’s short.”
The shorter hair is easier, faster, and less likely to get tangled in Li’s little hands- but it also doesn’t let me hide anymore- which takes some transition. The face is out there- and I’m more aware that I can’t use a wall of hair to mask what I’m feeling.
It also left me wondering:
“Was my last hairstyle THAT bad?”
*As said before, it’s my general belief that blogging is kind of a navel-gazing past time. But as it’s my blog, who better to navel-gaze, right?
** I HATE the term “matron-of-honor”. No one should ever feel old and dowdy at the age of 30 because they have been the recipient of the title of “matron”. Just because I’m married doesn’t mean I’m going to be wearing shawls and waving a cane as I look disapprovingly over my spectacles at the youngsters being too loud with that rock and roll music. The term should be “woman (or man)-of-honor” or even more acceptable “person-of-awesomeness”. It would work for both sides of the wedding party. Feel free to use as you’d like; My wedding gift to you.