chop chop

When we were little, mom had a haircut rule:  if we wanted to get our hair cut (other than just a trim) we had to wait a month, a whole 30 days before she would make us an appointment, just to make sure that’s what we really wanted.

As we got older, we pushed the 30 day rule, eventually working our way up to three weeks, then two.

Then, of course, once we were out on our own, Amy and I both made rash hair decisions that left us in tears afterward, regretting not following our mother’s hair wisdom.

 

For the past, I don’t know, year and a half, I’ve been growing my hair out.  Not necessarily because I wanted it long…I just couldn’t think of anything else to do with it.  I was in a haircut rut and inspiration just wasn’t there.

Trey and I had been living in San Antonio for a couple months before we ventured new haircuts.  His had gotten long and grown over his ears and he wanted to attempt the “Ted Mosby Do” from How I Met Your Mother. I must say, his hair looks fabulous and he’s really gotten the hang of using the spray wax. But on that day, in the middle of the SmartStyle inside the Walmart, all I could say was that I wanted my split ends trimmed.  And, while my hair felt healthier, my hair-esteem was as blah as ever. 

Flash forward a few months to this past Monday night:  I was scheduled to meet Trey’s mom and sister at The Melting Pot for Girls’ Night Out.  So I decided to go girly for the evening, and actually used my hairdryer.  I even took it a step farther and used my straightening iron to boot!  When I got home that night, as I was brushing my teeth in front of the bathroom mirror, some of the shorter layers of hair close to my face fell in front of my shoulders, leaving the longer locks hidden behind my back.  And I thought, “hey, that’s not too bad.” So I stiffened my neck and walked into the living room to show Trey, trying with all my might not to let a single strand of hair fall out of place, thus ruining the haircut illusion. 

“Would you care if I cut my hair about this short?”

“Um, sure baby, whatever you want to do.” 

So, the next day, I hopped back over to the SmartStyle in the Walmart (I know I know, I’m real classy) and told her to chop it off…and when she asked if I wanted any layers, I told her to go to town.  And she did.  After adding all sorts of volumizing goo and blowdrying my hair with a fat round brush, the finished product looked a little Jennifer Aniston circa 1995.  So I came home, washed it, and just let it dry naturally…making me look a little like I did in my 4th grade year book photo.

But today is a new day.  Today I showered, dried my hair, and straightened it just a tad.  And it’s fabulous.  Spunky and sassy and easy-breezy.  Ahh…

Change is good.

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