A Hair Post

My friend and coworker Kate pointed out to me one day that I am very much attached to my hair. For all of you smart alecs out there, yes of course I am very literally and physically attached to my hair but of course that is not what she meant. I am a person who is very emotionally attached to my hair. As many times as I want to just go down to Hollywood Clips and have them chop it to a short little style, I just can't bring myself to do it. I love my hair. I love it long and flowing.

This is going to be a bit of a bragging paragraph. I was blessed with awesome hair. It's shiny, soft and is naturally wavy, so I can easily make it go either straight or curly. The only time this doesn't hold true is when the humidity is up, then it refuses to straighten! (one of the worst parts about living in southeastern Texas, for sure) If I'm in a rush, I can easily scrunch it and leave it curly. I wash it every other day and have even gone 3 days without washing it and it wasn't even greasy. I have magic hair! My only complaint? It lies totally flat, no body whatsoever. Ugh. Can't have it all, I suppose.

I often play with my hair, probably out of habit. I am often running my fingers through it or (if it's curly) twisting it around my finger til I reach the end of it. I've been told by one of my best friends that one of the things she remembers about first meeting me was that I was kind of tugging at/holding on to my hair. I guess it's a security thing. I was probably nervous about meeting new people (considering the situation where we met) and it was my nervous habit. It's probably not the best habit to have, but let's be honest, it's not the worst! I found my first grey hair at 16 years old and I am NOT looking forward to the day when I'll have to start dying my hair. My color is completely natural, and while I love it that way, grey at 27 just isn't cute.

Last night I had a dream that I went to a salon I'd never been to and told the girl cutting my hair that I always had the urge to cut it short but didn't really want to. She promised that after she brushed my hair with a special brush (that cut off all the gross, unhealthy hair) that we could decide how to cut my hair. Well by the time she was done brushing, my hair was above my shoulders in length. I freaked out. I kept thinking "oh no! now I really look 12!" and "Mom is going to kill me!". I was very happy to wake up and find that this (and the rest of that awful, hurtful dream) was not true reality.

Someday I may cut it short (aka shoulder length...I could never do truly short hair) but for now, I am leaving it long and I am going to continue to play with it. If I ever do cut it short, you'll know, because I will not be able to stop crying. This may be pathetic, but so be it. We all have our quirks and this is most definitely one of mine. Don't even get me started on my OCD about my bed...