>four inches.

>Okay, I did it. Took the plunge. Did the deed. Summoned all my courage and the first time in almost a year, I got my hair cut.

I have a strange relationship with my hair. It’s more of an emotional dependence for reasons which are unclear to me. My mother always kept my hair waist-length when I was a kid…I suppose out of habit I kept it long…until when I was in college I cut it chin-length in a fit of, “let’s try something NEW!”. As the beautician handed me the mirror, terror struck. Immediately I mourned my missing locks; then began to resent those that remained for being a mere remnant of the glorious tendrils that preceded them. I thus engaged in a full-scale, balls-to-the-wall growing-out process, which, in case you didn’t know, is long, arduous, and ultimately unbearable. Which is why I shall never get it hacked again. You have to fix hair more the less of it you have. This is coiffure irony.

So, minus four inches now and I must say I like it quite a bit. My ponytail is significantly shorter, but considering I work in a restaurant this is probably a good thing.

It was rather sad to see my four inches laying, rather dejected-looking, on the floor. Perhaps I should have gathered them up and bundled them in a hankie, assuring them that I still loved them and would take good care of them, split ends and all.

voulez-voulez-vous gotta love low-maintenance.

One thought on “>four inches.

  1. WestsideKef

    >you look so sad in that picture. your hair is still pretty long. Mine is not half as long as what you cut off…’course that’s probably better. Otherwise I start getting nostalgic for the mullet of my youth.

    Like

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