Before (well, quite a long time before, this photo is about a year old, but this is about how long my hair was this morning)...
... and, After!
This is what my hair looks like now! What an idiot, eh?! Yes. I don't know what comes over me sometimes, I really don't. This urge to purge myself of my unruly (and usually two-tone, it's the two-toneness that usually drives me over the edge) and frizz-prone hair usually grips me every three or four years. This is now the fifth time I've done it, I believe. The first time was at uni, when I was 21. I was drunk, and got my drunk friend to do a grade 1 on me. I really liked it then; it was very, very short and bristly, and I used to bleach it and dye it different colours like navy blue and scarlet. One deep regret in my life is that I never dyed it green. Of course, there's still plenty of time.
The second time I did it was when Thomas was a baby. I remember with crystal clarity the moment when Kev came through the door and I was cradling a teeny Thomas, and Kev's jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw me. He'd never seen me with short hair before. He quite liked it that time, I think. That was the only time he liked it. Then I did it a few more times when Thomas was little, and then when James arrived too. But I haven't lopped it off for about four years now. Every time I swear that I'll never do it again, and then I just wake up one day and almost involuntarily get the clippers out. It's like I'm sleep walking. There's never any indication when I go to bed the night before that I'll be losing my hair the next day, no warning at all. It's not something I really have any control over. Even this morning as I plugged in the clippers I caught myself thinking Are you sure you really want to do this? Because it's not to late to stop you know, and I replied to myself with stony silence and just got on with it.
IDIOT! I know that it kind of suits my face - being one of those horsey-faced kind of people - and that it's nice to feel fresh and cool in the summer. And it's much quicker to deal with in the morning: just stick a bit of wax on and ruffle it up a bit, bish, bash, bosh, done. But I kind of miss my long hair already. I always know that I'll miss it, but I go ahead and shear it off anyway. IDIOT! It's not even as if it was particularly nice long hair - I was in the middle of growing it out of a stupid bob (that I didn't ever like!). I was looking forward to getting it so long that it would be heavy enough to leave down without straightening. FOOL!
Fortunately my hair grows very quickly, winter and summer, so it'll be back to straightenable length in no time at all. In the meantime I will be doing the pixie thing again! It's all because I have zero patience when it comes to my hair. I can't be bothered to wait for the colour I've become bored of to grow out, can't be bothered to go and see if a hairdresser can blend the colour in for me, just can't be bothered. The easy option always seems to be the clippers - it actually always turns out to be the harder option in the end, because of the strange carpet effect my hair achieves all by itself when it is left without some kind of product on it. IDIOT!
Ah well. Never mind. I just hope that I'll be presentable at Noomski and Jessica's wedding at the beginning of October! Cripes - I'd forgotten about that. I was going to have lovely hair for that - not any more, oops.
But thank you to all the lovely ladies in the playground this morning who complimented my hair very sincerely. There's nothing actually wrong with the style - I quite like it really. I just miss my long hair, that's all.
I am resisting the urge to say 'I'll never do it again', because it's very likely that I'll end up having to eat my words! But, I do really hope that I never do it again ...