Friday, September 01, 2006

Because I Refuse to Cut It Off

I had my hair done yesterday. I chose to go back to my fun blonde look. Yes, I loved the dark hair, however, it was starting to look flat and weak. It was depressing me a bit. It is now at that in between dark brown and blonde stage right now. It's not quite "I've been at the beach all summer long" blonde, yet. Why the color change? I don't want to chop my hair off for the sake of keeping things easier for me during the pregnancy and later when Farrah arrives. That's what ponytails and braids are for. When I used to have my short hair, it would take me almost 45 minutes just to do my hair. Holy crap, I can't believe I put myself through that. Now it takes 45 minutes to shower, put on make up, get dressed, and do the hair. Amazing. I have girlfriends that swear it is so much easier with the shorter hair, but their hair is much more agreeable than mine. I used to have horrible arguments with my hair when I was growing up. Back in junior high (mind you, this story will make you think that I should be locked away in a padded room) I would battle my hair before trying to catch the school bus. I HATED my hair in junior high. You know that time when we are going through puberty and we get the over production of oil? Well a lot of it would land on my scalp making my hair flat and limp. Boring hair. This is also a time when we actually gave a shit of what people thought of us and we wanted to look good. I would put my hair up in a barrett and quickly tear it out (literally) because it didn't look even. This was usually followed by a severe brushing that would pull out excessive amounts of hair. I would then pull it back in a ponytail and then notice that I had a zit that needed to be covered up by a couple of dangly locks. Well, that screwed up the whole look I was going for. Wearing it down was not always a good option because the weight of the grease on my head. I would literally start my day off in tears. Luckily, no one was ever home to see my freak outs. Talk about temper tantrums. Yikes. There would be so many strands on the floor, on the counter, in the sink, and of course wads in my brush. When it came to my hair in the morning, it was an ugly, ugly battle. So, I decided to chop it off. Oops! That was such a mistake. Now it was too short to pull back even if I wanted to. This, too, is why I now will forever have long hair. The most I will probably ever do is just color it. If it works, I won't mess with it. Also, if it stays in style, I refuse to change it. It's a side of me that needs to be locked away forever and for everyone's sake. I'm sure Mike would quietly leave me if he ever saw my ranting and raving over a hair being out of place.

Ahh, the memories that I have of being a teen frighten me so much when I think of what awful traits I might have passed on to Farrah. We will be raising her with patience right off the bat. I can't guarantee her scalp will hold up like mine did. I didn't have the Moody gene in me that included strength behind the tugs that were to my hair. I can only imagine what people might be thinking when they read this. When I told Mike about it, he had one eye looking at me with such pity and understanding, while the other eye was looking for an escape route in case too much dry air came in contact with my hair and caused a couple of strands to stand straight up. What if I'd run out of hair paste?!! What if I couldn't find my hairspray?! Mike was in the shower and had no way out if I lost it. Luckily, I've matured enough that I won't allow another episode to overcome me like that again. It hasn't in over 15 years. Puberty was unkind to me. I can only hope it will be a bit nicer to Farrah when the time comes.

I'm ebarrassed to have shared this.

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