You allowed me some long over due “girlie” time today. Mother took W to Smith Playhouse and while they were having a fantastic time I was taming the insanity that was my hair.
Seriously, it was out of control up there. Post pregnancy and then thyroid disease totally changed the texture of my super thick hair. I once had the double whammy of thick individual strands of hair coupled with LOTS of hair. Now I have thin hair, but lots of it. And where this gets me into trouble is the tangle factor – it is super, super high. I hardly ever have my hair down, but if I do it is a hot mess within an hour. I once slept with it down and woke up with 70% of my hair matted together.
The absolute horror of this is that I am what you might call tender headed. From an early age I was the girl that cried as her Mama combed her hair out. And now that I am a grown woman I cry when I have to detangle my mop. I ‘m not even exaggerating when I say that. I have panic attacks when I feel things get tangled because I know that soon I will be faced with the task of undoing it.
The last time I did anything with my hair was the week before the BlogHer conference last summer. I cut a bit off and covered my white (oh I am beyond grey) with a lovely shade of red. And since then it has grown and grown and grown and today was just the day that something needed to be done.
Mother gave me a box of hair dye for Christmas so I decided once she & W were out of the house I would take the time to really unknot my hair and then freshen up the color with this super BOLD red. And so I began the task. And an hour later not much progress had been made except I was pouring sweat and shaking from pain.
It’s just hair.
And as much as I would love to not care about it at all, I do. It is bizarre how I walk this line of caring about my hair and yet never caring for it. Going to a salon for color hasn’t happened in years and I haven’t had a hair cut from anything other than kitchen shears in that length of time either. Hair care is a total luxury. And yet I covet pretty hair. I see a woman with bouncy and beautiful hair, shiny or perfectly trimmed and I admire her. I feel like she loves herself more than I love myself.
So this time today was about love. It was about taking this rare block of free time and not cleaning the house or working on other projects. It was about putting on Adele and pushing through. In the end I did cut my hair. And yes, with the kitchen shears. Because that is what I have. Of course it wasn’t the same as having that special salon day, that close your eyes as the shampoo person does the magic fingers thing, but it was meaningful because I took the time to make it fucking happen. I told myself I was WORTH the time.
(I didn’t get a photo of my hair dry yet, but that is my artist rendition of what I imagine it will look like…ish)