My hair and I hit a rough patch in our love-hate relationship last summer and I was ready to cut it then. To the grace of the hair gods, I met a new hair stylist who has been amazing at figuring out what kinds of coloring I like. She gave me bright blonde peek-a-boos that I fell in love with and immediately decided I loved my hair, yet again, for another long duration.
Earlier this month the straw broke the camel's back when I was constantly finding myself sitting on my hair and getting it caught in every single inanimate object I came across. It was too much for my patience to bear. I was ready to donate it and get it off my back. To my delayed dismay, I couldn't donate it. So dumb of me to not investigate donation programs any further than what length the donated hair should be! My hair has been colored, re-colored and colored again so many times over the life of my relationship with my hair. There was no way I could guarantee that it hadn't been completely bleached or risk it getting damaged while being processed for a wig. So, I said "good-bye dear hair" and cut over 8 inches off.
Good-bye dear hair! We will meet again someday!
Dustin's Grandpa and Grandma have been in Arizona snow-birding for the winter and no one told them about my decision. Three days after I cut my hair, Grandma mailed me the following news article in the mail. I swear she has a tenth sense and knows me better than I think she does!
"Sarah - Please don't feel pressured to NOT cut - do what you'd like to do and spring is here! Go for it"!
I am liking having shoulder length hair again! It doesn't feel like a stranger behind me tickling my elbows when I am running on the treadmill -- nor do I have to jerk it out of my coat sleeves -- or pick up endless strands of hair from the floor. I could get used to this for a long time. Now, what will Grandpa Al say??