You are hair today, gone tomorrow.
I just cut off 12+ inches of my hair.
Snip, snip. All gone.
And now I ask myself, why didn't I do this earlier?
Why I didn't do this earlier:
- I am cheap. It pains me to have to spend money on my hair. The reason I had long, flowing, healthy hair was not because I thought it was beautiful or womanly. Not cutting it was saving money. I was saving money by not having short hair, which requires frequent trimming. (Says the person who incessantly buys hair clips and rubber bands to tie up said hair.)
- I am lazy. I don't like spending time on my hair. Having long hair means one of two things: ponytail or bun. Time it takes me to get ready in the morning: about 60 seconds.
- I don't like putting hair products in my hair. Short hair often requires some sort of styling product of the sticky or waxy sort, which challenges my tactile sensory hypersensitivity. Ewwwww.
What finally made me chop it all off:
- The amount of hair I pick up off the bathroom floor and shower drain daily should have been enough reason for me to do it last year. Between Dear Daughter and myself, we could have made wigs from fallen hair alone.
- The realization that the beautiful, shiny, long, black hair on my head is only beautiful, shiny, and long for the mere 3 minutes I am in front of the mirror in the morning. After which, it is only in a hair-clipped bun, lest I want it to 1) always be caught under my shoulder bag strap, 2) perform anti-gravity electrostatic tricks, or 3) be in a ridiculous race with any foods ready to enter my mouth.
- I realized that I had the opportunity to donate my hair to help people who are less fortunate to have a head of healthy hair.
The last reason was what sealed the deal for me. I didn't want to go just a little shorter and waste a chance to donate some serious hair. And I really was ready for a change.
I found--through a friend--a salon that gives free haircuts for hair donations! At the salon, I asked for a bob at the jawline with a little shaping in the back. The hairstylist knew exactly what I wanted and went to work. She first rubberbanded four sections of my hair and braided them.
Then I started to cry.
Out of one eye.
No, I wasn't getting cold feet. Something fell into my eye, and if you wear gas permeable contact lenses like I do, you'd know of that glass-shards-in-your-eye feel. Anyway, after about forty snips, they were all gone. (It was amazing how much work went into cutting off one braid!)
I wish I could give myself more credit for donating my hair, but the truth is, I got out of it a great haircut and a really needed change. I love my new do. I feel so much lighter. And about the lazy part of me? Well, now it takes about a quarter of the time to blow dry my hair, so a little styling time is no biggie. I'm still working on the styling products issue, but we're very careful about taking baby steps.
I don't know what will happen to my braids, but I hope that they will one day dangle over a pair of ears and brush her neck like her own hair would have. Or tussle in a gentle breeze above his crown like his own hair could have. I am lucky to have been able to so easily give something needed by others.
Yes, I really am the lucky one.
So, Dear Tresses, I forgot to mention one more reason why I didn't chop you off sooner: people with short hair wake up with bedhead.
Ask me how I know.