I've always had a love-hate relationship with my hair, as do many women, I suppose. When I was very young, my mother kept it cut super-short... so short, in fact, that people often thought she had three sons instead of two boys and me. I hated that. So, when I got a bit older, I grew it... and grew it... and grew it. I was a bit like Rapunzel for a while and could tuck my hair into the back of my jeans. Not that I did that often, or on purpose, but I could.
My dad loved my hair long. Lots of men like long hair, it seems. I've never really understood that. For me, quite frankly, it was a pain in the ass. My hair is incredibly thick and it never fully dried. It was stick straight when I was young, too, and it took ridiculous measures to get it to curl even a little bit (though it was pretty when it was curled, I'll admit). And if it was humid or, God forbid, raining? The curl was gone like George Bush from Washington on January 20th. It was easiest to keep in a ponytail or a (3-inch thick) braid. I even had a hairdresser tell me once that she'd never seen someone with so much hair that did so little. Nice, eh? Yeah. She didn't get a tip.
As I said, my dad loved my hair long. He threatened that if I cut it, he'd cut my college tuition... then he said he'd refuse to pay for my wedding. So about two months after I got married, I cut all my hair off, much to his chagrin. I loved it, though. For about a month. Then, try as she might, my hairdresser could never duplicate the look. And thus began my 15-year yo-yo hair game... I'd keep it short for a while... then I'd try to grow it out... then I'd hate that 'in-between' stage... then I'd cut it... then I'd try to grow it out... and so on.
Then it started to go grey.
Then my marriage fell apart and I decided a needed a whole new look. So I colored it back to it's original blonde (and when I say 'original', I mean 'the color it was when I was a toddler', as it had been a sweet shade of dirty dishwater for years). I grew it out past my shoulders, all one length, and finally - finally - loved it.
Then (as in now) I got tired of it again. I toyed with the idea of changing it... a little bit... drastically... something... anything... I just wanted a change. Then I met a swim mom who has the cutest haircut... a swingy little bob. Adorable. Our faces are shaped similarly, so I thought maybe I could pull it off, too. But I couldn't decide whether or not I really wanted to do it.
Then today I went to get re-blonded. While I was waiting, I was looking at a magazine and lo and behold, there was the cut! It was so cute. The woman in the magazine was my age, had my hair color and texture, and the article said the cut is flattering for all face shapes (I'm always worried that when I find a picture of a haircut in a magazine, it's actually the model's face I want and not her hair). Anyway, I decided to just suck it up and ask for the cut.
I got it. Well, sort of. It was a modified version of the cut because my hairdresser didn't want to shock me with such a drastic change. I looked like Donna Reed. I hated it. She started cutting again. Now it looks a bit more like the picture. But not exactly. Additionally, we decided to go a bit darker with my color, as I was nearly white-blonde in places because of sun and chlorine, and I needed to even out a bit. A bit darker? Turned into a lot darker.
So my hair went from long and blonde to short, dark, and though not Donna Reed-like, not exactly like the picture in the magazine or the cute swim mom either.
I think I want to cry. I know it's only hair. I know it'll grow (and it'll grow fast, too). I know that in the grand scheme of things, it's not a big deal. I'm hoping the (drastic) new look will grow on me. Ryan said she liked it... but I think she was lying. I know my kid. My mother just said, "Oh" and wrinkled up her nose. But my mother is mean and likes Donna Reed, so I don't care what she thinks. But would it have killed her to say, "I like it" even if she didn't? Apparently it would have.
So my love-hate relationship with my hair continues. Maybe tomorrow I'll love it again...? One can hope.