hair-ibles

Nothing like following up a long, thoughtful post with a rant about the hairs but this is what you get.

So, immediately after the Thailand honeymoon (I'm not bragging I just like the feel of that phrase in my mouth) I chopped off a large portion of my hairs. Documented here.

I hate it. I did it after growing the hair to wedding portions & sweating through the Thailand jungle (yum!) & at the time it felt so heavy & hot.  It enjoyed my hair freedom for about a week & then started to regret it.  This has been compounded by:

• The teens in the ministry telling me I lost my "street cred" because now they don't mistake me for one of them anymore.
• my fellow youth minsiters who are all guys saying, "Why'd you cut your hair? It looks bad. We miss your old hair." Bitches! Men should tell all women they are beautiful all the time everytime, no matter what.  I never tell them their unshaven faces are scraggle monkey ugly.
• Since the haircut I haven't been carded once. Not once. A serious sudden drop in carding. I was even called ma'am for the first time in my life.
• I had all my bridesmaids over for dinner & they told me I looked like a housewife.  Shouldn't I at least get to live in a house before I start to look like one.
• I just don't know how to style it! I straighten it & look like Nancy Pelosi or leave it curly & look like Roxie Heart in the movie version of Chicago before Richard Gere made her get  a trim for trial.  That's right, like a trashy, murderin' flapper & I didn't even get the dance skills to pay the rent.

In short, my long hair was my fountain of youth*, my power animal*, my one beauty*, my snowy day* my pillar of fire*, my little black dress*, AND was so much easier to deal with when I could always fall back on the bouncy ponytail.

Now, I got nothing.

Although Rebs says he likes it better this way. Yep, still got that guy wrapped around my little finger.

Also, this bad hair is dredging up bad, bad memories of sixth through eleventh grade when I had a frizzy uncontrollable mass of hair that would fill up the entire frame of my school pictures.  I waited for years to gain the skills that would allow me to wear my hair down, without hair ties, bobbly pins, clips, barrettes, nothing. Down. This was a goal of my life for years & once I accomplished it I should have signed a contract with myself to NEVER do anything that would jeopardize my hair freedom.

WAAAIIIILLLL! Gnashing of teeth! rending of cloak! (But not pulling of hair because, obviously, I'm trying to grow it out.)

*If you know all these references you are my soulmate & perhaps we should ditch Rebs & run off to Bali together.