For those of you who wish to humor me, or just don't have the good sense to move on, here goes...
I have never had long hair. At its longest, it has maybe grazed my shoulders. So, of course, since the grass really and truly must be greener on the proverbial other side, I want long hair. So I begin to grow it. Soon, the awkward grossness sets in and I immediately panic and cut it all off. Even as I am walking out of the salon, having left an enormous tip and waving and smiling and raving about my cute cut (while secretly vowing to never return), I start to suffer from cutter's remorse. I tell myself that next time, I must be stronger and allow my hair the time it needs to blossom into the luxurious mane it was meant to be.
And so the cycle begins again. Hair grows. Hair gets ugly and time consuming to style. Hair goes into a clip. Permanently. So, I tell myself, "Why have it long if I am only going to wear it up?" I never have the time or desire to spend blowing it out, straightening it, fluffing it, un-fluffing it, and then ultimately pulling it back into a ponytail. Frustrated, I drive straight to the nearest Hair Cuttery and yell at them to chop it all off. However, this time, there is no need to bother with the big tip or the act. I storm out, insisting that next time, I will let it grow.
So that brings us to today... It takes me 20 minutes to style it (which probably doesn't seem like very long to those of you that have normal to above normal hygiene standards) and I don't love the finished look. It's okay, but not fan-friggin-tastic, and I swear it makes my bald spot look more pronounced. It is at the stage where I would normally cut it, but I am trying to fight the urge. There are a couple of reasons...
1) I like to wear hats in the winter. Without the cute little strands of hair flipping out from underneath, I look like a boy.
2) There is no #2.
The color is another whole saga, in and of itself. The gray that was cute before 40 is now passe and ugly on this side of 40. The blonde is always too blonde, but the dark makes my grey roots look awful. There have been showdowns, tears, photographic evidence, litigious threats... But I am digressing, as I promised I would.
So here you are, my wise friends. I have laid the contents of my heart before you... A troubled, lost lamb, wandering the lonely hair-trauma pastures.
Off to the wonderful, magical event of the season, which is the 6th grade band concert. With long hair, I could wear ear plugs and no one would notice.