I’m sick of my hair
When I tell people I’ve decided to chop off my hair, I get one of two reactions: “But it’s so pretty!” (almost exclusively from Mi Madre), or “WHYYYY???” with sadness and alarm. Everyone knows that given the opportunity, I will talk until the day runs out, so let me tell you wwwhhhyyyyyy.
My hair is about 2 feet long, reaching the middle of my back. It is heavy, and unwieldy, and tries to foil me as much as possible. Whether I’m eating, crafting, or bathing it interferes, almost as though it’s self-aware. I have to wear it in a bun at almost all times in order to contain its wrath.
If I wear it down while I’m asleep, it spreads out to become a giant target for Hubby’s elbows, or the cats to walk across, or the dog to get tangled in. This of course causes me to wake up screeching, which wakes everyone else up. I frequently lay on it myself, or get so wrapped up in it I need assistance to get free.
Bathing has its own plethora of problems. When wet, it weighs exponentially more. It sticks and wraps around me. It’s like having a lazy, angry octopus on my head. I use three to four different types of conditioner on a regular basis, just so I can get a brush through this mass of irritation attached to me. I can’t blow dry it, because a) my weak little T-Rex arms can’t take being in the air for two hours, and b) I have a full-time job.
The bangs are the sole redeeming characteristic. They generally look cute and behave, while the hair behind them is a barely contained ball of frizz and hate. I’ve actually been able to even style them a little, but they’re starting to rebel. The rest of my hair is giving them ideas. They’re starting to poke me in the eyes, and go in bizarre directions. You think I’m stuck with you, hair? Well you’ve got it all wrong. You’re stuck with ME.
I can’t let my hair start getting ideas about who’s in charge. So I did this:
I found some photos online that I liked:
Here’s the before of the back:
Before side view:
Since my hair was so long, I decided to donate it to Wigs for Kids. It only has to be 12 inches long. They have directions on the website explaining how to donate your hair, but basically put it in 4-6 pony tails, bound at both end with rubber bands. Cut ’em off, and mail ’em in. That’s it. Here’s the after back view:
After side view:
And the front! I freaking love it. It took me two minutes to wash it yesterday! TWO! I had no idea what to do with myself after that. It’s so light, and simple. I’m so glad I just went ahead and did it. Why should my hair be sitting around irritating me when it could be helping young children with cancer feel better about themselves?
If you live in Austin, I will totally send you to my hair stylist. She did an amazing job, but doesn’t have a website. I totally have the hook up, so just let me know. You can’t ask for the “Clever Chick” though. This one’s mine.