Posted by: canthold | January 16, 2010

I’m a pretty low-maintenance woman. And I don’t think I’m one of those high-maintenance women who think they’re low-maintenance, either. I’m pretty easy going when I’m not totally uptight, too.

I say all this because I sort of miss my long hair. I don’t miss it in a regret sort of way, I miss it in that I never had to get it cut. I never had to worry about what to do with it. It was always predictably fine.

Perhaps as a benefit of aging, I’ve come to accept my hair and have forgiven it for not being blonde or straight and actually appreciate that my thick head of curls is a pretty cool thing. In fact, I’d say it was my best feature now. (It used to be my eyes, but you can’t even see them behind my glasses, so I doubt it’s them.)

I cut 12-inches off a while back to donate and loved the freedom of having short hair. It felt sassy and fun and, I hate to say it, but after the fact, I felt more like my age and less like I was trying to be something I’m not. That’s a perfectly ridiculous thing for a 27-year-old like myself to say. And if that were only true. So why is it that older women cut their hair, anyway?

Freedom? Because it dries faster in the summer? Well, I hate having to maintain short hair. I hate getting a haircut that I don’t like so much and get compliments on it to the point where I’m confused? Does it look good, or not? And then, trying to communicate with my hair dresser is hit or miss. Sometimes I can get across what I want and other times, I contradict myself and end up with something that I’m sure I asked for but don’t really like. If she wasn’t so good at what she did I would have to stop going.

My last haircut didn’t go so well. It was too long to start with and that makes me act a little rash. The problem with my thick head of curls is that there is so much hair sometimes. Cut. I said cut.

So she did.

My haircut is a bit too short right now. I feel like a bobble-head doll with a tiny little head. My hair is too short to hide my extra chin. People are asking me for wooden shoes because I look like a little Dutch Boy, except not as cute. Yuck.

The thing about working is that I’m in contact with so many people on a regular basis that I can’t hide my haircut. Everyone has noticed. No slipping under the radar for me. And I can’t help but notice that they say, “You got your hair cut.” They do not say that they like it or that it looks good necessarily, but that they noticed that my thick head of curls has become a smaller Thing to top off my neck.

Oh to go back to the good old days when my hair was so long that I could go six-months or a year in between haircuts and be totally fine. Low maintenance. Pony tails. Not this every-seven-weeks crap-shoot as to whether I’m going to get the Best Haircut Ever or It’ll Grow.

I’ve got to go now. I’m going to make a snack, maybe a sandwich with a little pastrami and lettuce with mayonnaise but only one piece of the toast, not both, and cut at a diagonal and eaten with a dill pickle, on the side.



  1. This is why every time I mention cutting my hair short, my husband drags out pictures from my high school years when I had very, very short hair. I look like a pencil with an eraser on top.

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