My working title was: The Story of My Hair – Nobody Cares but Me.
Enjoy the post that is as long as my hair!
This might be a boring post for you, but I’m getting my hair cut on Friday. By “cut”, I actually mean “chopped”. It got me walking down the memory lane of my hair.
I’ve always had a LOT of hair. Despite my best efforts of getting it cut every few years *wink, wink*, it always seems to end up super long. Go figure.
At a year old, I had hair to my shoulders.
By kindergarten, it was past my knees. My first “real” haircut was in first or second grade when my teacher suggested getting it cut to my mom because during story time on the floor, kids were sitting on it.
In third grade, I got it cut to my shoulders (and a perm, if I remember correctly… don’t be jealous!), but by middle school, it was long again.
I know I started high school with short hair, but by graduation, my friend, Wendi, was calling me Malibu Barbie, and it was to my waist again.
It was long all through college. I may or may not have been a little bit of a hippie in those days… well, I suppose only in looks… since I didn’t do drugs, I had multiple jobs, and I showered daily. So… poser? Nah.
When I was 23, my hair was to my hips, and my hair dresser refused to cut it. I made a deal with her that if I modeled in a hair show she was asking me to do, that I would get it cut. Since she refused to do it herself, a stylist from Texas who was at the show agreed to do it. On stage. My hairdresser had asked me to do one show, but I ended up doing three shows a day for three days. The whole time, they hyped up that I was getting my hair cut on stage during the last show. By that show, everyone was there to see it. Standing room only. It was insane!
Since then, I’ve had a lot of different hairstyles. I’ve had almost black, maroon, teal, purple (my favorite!), very blonde, red… and it has been mostly short. Even bangs! (Not a good idea on me…).
But now here we are, and I’ve come full circle. My hair almost reaches my belt in back…
For some reason I’m much more nervous getting the chop this time than any time in my past. Maybe because I’m not sure my hair will get this long again? Maybe because since having Harlow, I’ve been hiding behind it, hoping it draws people away from my extra
baby cheese & ice cream weight? Maybe because the people I work with call me Goldie Locks and Rapunzel and tell me on the daily how pretty my hair is. I’m not sure… I am really looking forward to getting it done, though, and I hope I feel great when it is done, and more like “me”. It has gotten just too overwhelming and…bleh. Wish me lots of luck & courage!
As weird as it sounds, I’m interested in hair stories! Got any?