HAIR

A year and a half ago, when I first moved here to California to live with Mike, my hair was long ... down to my tailbone. Parted in the middle, no particular style just a long length of beautiful hair flowing down.

(when I walked around Canada on windy days, old ladies would actually stop me in the street to compliment me on the way my hair flowed in the breeze. These were German Mennonite ladies I remembered from my childhood church (that I rejected with a vengeance) ... ladies who had traumatized me in my childhood and were now grown old and didn't recognize me as the 15 year old girl who used to come to church with black eyeliner that they cornered in the church bathroom to tell me I was a sinner for wearing makeup...)

But I digress....

Shortly after moving here, Mike convinced me to let him cut it. He was careful. He gave it a minuscule trim. But somehow, that trim freed me to ask him to cut it shorter ... and shorter ... and shorter ... I actually asked him to shave me bald, but he said "maybe we should hold off on that idea...."

By the time we stopped, my hair was really short. Not bald, but short. And now I miss my long hair. And Mike misses it too. So I'm growing it out again. I won't stop until it's long again. It grows fast, so I'm not worried.

I've discovered a MYTH concerning short hair:

It is NOT easier to manage, it is actually more difficult (you need PRODUCTS to keep it in place and by the time you actually have it in place, your hair resembles a hard helmet). You need a spray bottle filled with water to wet it down until FINALLY it's relaxed, and looks okay.

You would not believe the sights of my short haired self that I've seen in the morning mirror.

When I had long hair, it looked great as soon as I woke. As Mike said to me when it was long "Women everywhere would envy your morning hair".

So anyway, yah. I'm growing it out.