Cutting my hair is a cleansing renewing act for me. When I've had a bad day, week, or more, I always consider cutting my hair. A couple of weeks ago when I was feeling particularly postpartum-y (which hasn't really been a problem due to a VERY hippy thing that I did following the birth. I am currently trying to work up the nerve to blog about it. Maybe if you ask really nicely....) I REALLY thought about shaving my head. I never would have done it. I'm spontaneous and wimpy at the same time. So I have drastic... thoughts. This is the conversation that always ensues in my brain:
Self:" I can totally do this!
So-and-so cut their own hair, it looked relatively fine and I'm way more artsy than her...
How dramatic and awesome would it be to just chop it all off!
A pixie cut!
It would SO be like the movies to just go at my hair like a weed wacker!
I start looking for the scissors
Short! short! wicked short! It will look awesome!
I'm going to do it!
Visions of a haircut gone terribly wrong flash through my head - making me look like either Little Lord Fantleroy,
an impish 10 year old boy from the sticks,
(Ok that picture may be a little to close to the truth of what I looked like when I was ten I just physically shuddered. )
Or Simon Cowell
Those are not good options.
Plus, I would have no hair, and if I got depressed I would have no more hair to cut off.
I really can't cut hair.
And the back of my head would be a terrible mess.
Maybe I'll just trim the ends, no one will notice..."
I ended up cutting off an inch and just making my hair look slightly dodgy. This act of predictable bad choices led me, as it always does, to the salon to get a real haircut. So that's what I did. What do you think?