This is an old personal essay, I re-worked, hope you like it!
So despite that my hair isn’t quite long enough to pull back without multiple length strands sliding out, I wear this black hair elastic on my wrist like friendship bracelets. I’ve found that hair elastics have multiple purposes they can be offered to coworkers and friends with no expectation of receiving them back. They can be a fantastic icebreaker, “Do you want to see me balance this between my nose and mouth?”, “I feel faint, I think it’s cutting off my circulation. Can you take it off for me? Ha ha your hand is mine now!”, and they make great weapons, “Target has been spotted. Middle finger slingshot is in place”. Getting back to my point, what confuses me is not that I wear hair elastics on my wrist, it’s the inadequate length of my hair. I don’t know why I keep cutting it short.
I have always been jealous of people with long hair. Donna from That 70’s Show, Beyonce, Celine Dion, and Tangled is officially my new all time favorite Disney movie, and it’s not just because of the horse. It’s all in the long locks of hair.
I’m going to give myself a pass on the first time I cut my hair; it was after my debacle of a decision to perm my hair. I thought I would look like a sexy Meg Ryan, from when she did Sleepless in Seattle, and When Harry Met Sally. The trouble with looking like Meg Ryan is you have to be Meg Ryan. So naturally I looked like the product of a relationship between a poodle and Chewbacca. After about year of endless hair products and diffusing the crap out of my hair; from my chin down was as dead as a deli. So I stopped going to my mom’s friend’s basement to get my hair done, and I went to a real hair salon. I had them chop it all off, and throw on some erotic “layers” and “bangs”, and I looked pretty good. I thought I had a good thing going for me, and that’s where I messed up big time. The next time I went to the hair salon I just wanted a trim. But in the words of Aslan, “Things never happen the same way twice”. Needless to say that didn’t turn out too well and I vowed to let my hair grow out. Women who have long hair don’t have to deal with it, if they’re having a bad hair day they can pull it back in ponytail or a bun or fancy clips with feathers – whatever you like. Eventually my hair grew out to the awkward stage. That horrible stage right between your shoulders and ears, where it’s not long enough to curl, or braid, or pull back. It’s a frustrating, impatient stage that makes women bob their hair the next four hair salon appointments.
After 2 years I’m currently living in the awkward stage now and still in recovery, it’s a constant struggle but well worth the fight against myself to cut it. Maybe if I don’t cut it ever again I’ll look like Crystal Gayle. I can only hope. One day at a time. One day at a time.
Hey so I am moving my posts to Sundays because my Saturday shifts are too hectic to fit writing in. See you next week; we’re going to talk about the cheap red necks who keep dumping tires in our backyard.
All images were from google images
Thoughts That Talk 