The Mop-Like Phase
I had my first bad hair day in a long time yesterday. I used to not have 'bad hair days'. This was because I didn't have enough hair to classify things 'good' or 'bad'. My hair just was. Short. Very short. So short it couldn't blow in the wind or get in my eyes. Yesterday it did both.
Ordinarily this would probably signal the beginning of the end. All the other times I've tried to grow my hair out (or simply tried to see how long I could go without cutting it), wind blown hair would have been a harbinger of things to come; the sign of the first and last Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The fact that it's long enough to get in my eyes means two things, (1) This is by far my best attempt in twenty-five years to grow it out and (2) I'll either run screaming to my clippers today OR I'll run screaming away from them. The jury is still out on #2.
It's love/hate at this point. I thought it was mop-like weeks ago. Wrong. It is now officially mop-like. I've revised the definition - 'mop-like' must now include a reference to hair falling in the eyes. It is also not very cute. I know there are stages. Inevitably some are going to be cute and others, many others, are going to be ugly. I'm honestly amazed that it took me this long to get to an ugly stage. Usually it happens just a few weeks in and, unable to endure, I reach for the clippers. I'm currently MONTHS in. Months. It's unheard of.
Which is at least partly why the jury is still out. I've been doing so well this time and people are impressed. I've also gotten a lot of compliments (though just one this week) and up until yesterday I liked it. Granted I may like it again today, but I am slightly worried about what will happen if I string together a couple 'I don't like it' days. Not having a lot of experience with bad hair days, I'm curious what I'll be able to weather. Especially given that my answer has historically been to shave my head. Usually the day immediately following the bad hair day.
I'm going to do my best to hang on and hope for the best today. No catastrophizing simply because yesterday was bad. No assuming today or tomorrow or the next day will be bad. I'm going to tell myself that, as in life, bad days are going to come and go. No sense throwing the baby out with the bath water simply because I'm not used to having hair in my eyes.
Maybe that it's. Maybe I just need to get used to this. After all, I got used to my hair blowing in the wind. I can't say I like it. And I can't say I'll like it any more now that the wind can blow my hair in my eyes. Ooh, doubly-whammy. Perhaps if I stay inside and avoid mirrors... Or wear a hat.
It's not like I have to grow it out. Donating my hair to charity is on my Bucket List, just as shaving my head was once upon a time (weird, right?), but that doesn't mean I have to do it this year. How strange would that be, though? The woman with the wickedly short hair growing it long enough (12-14 inches) to donate? That's at least partly why I want to do it. I enjoy doing the unexpected, the things people tell me I can't or won't do. Play college tennis? Check. Win a marathon? Check. Donate my hair? We'll see. I've got a good start on it (well, a couple months at least) and I'd hate to ruin that over one bad hair day.
The good news is that every week my hair looks different. I can see progress. So this week it entered an ugly phase. Next week it may be cute again. Or worst case, maybe the week after. Once I can get it in a pony tail my problems are solved. Here's hoping I get that far. Grow, hair, grow! And stay out of my eyes while you're at it. I'd hate to put a hat on you, but I will if I have to. At least until this mop-like/ugly phase is over.
Ordinarily this would probably signal the beginning of the end. All the other times I've tried to grow my hair out (or simply tried to see how long I could go without cutting it), wind blown hair would have been a harbinger of things to come; the sign of the first and last Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The fact that it's long enough to get in my eyes means two things, (1) This is by far my best attempt in twenty-five years to grow it out and (2) I'll either run screaming to my clippers today OR I'll run screaming away from them. The jury is still out on #2.
It's love/hate at this point. I thought it was mop-like weeks ago. Wrong. It is now officially mop-like. I've revised the definition - 'mop-like' must now include a reference to hair falling in the eyes. It is also not very cute. I know there are stages. Inevitably some are going to be cute and others, many others, are going to be ugly. I'm honestly amazed that it took me this long to get to an ugly stage. Usually it happens just a few weeks in and, unable to endure, I reach for the clippers. I'm currently MONTHS in. Months. It's unheard of.
Which is at least partly why the jury is still out. I've been doing so well this time and people are impressed. I've also gotten a lot of compliments (though just one this week) and up until yesterday I liked it. Granted I may like it again today, but I am slightly worried about what will happen if I string together a couple 'I don't like it' days. Not having a lot of experience with bad hair days, I'm curious what I'll be able to weather. Especially given that my answer has historically been to shave my head. Usually the day immediately following the bad hair day.
I'm going to do my best to hang on and hope for the best today. No catastrophizing simply because yesterday was bad. No assuming today or tomorrow or the next day will be bad. I'm going to tell myself that, as in life, bad days are going to come and go. No sense throwing the baby out with the bath water simply because I'm not used to having hair in my eyes.
Maybe that it's. Maybe I just need to get used to this. After all, I got used to my hair blowing in the wind. I can't say I like it. And I can't say I'll like it any more now that the wind can blow my hair in my eyes. Ooh, doubly-whammy. Perhaps if I stay inside and avoid mirrors... Or wear a hat.
It's not like I have to grow it out. Donating my hair to charity is on my Bucket List, just as shaving my head was once upon a time (weird, right?), but that doesn't mean I have to do it this year. How strange would that be, though? The woman with the wickedly short hair growing it long enough (12-14 inches) to donate? That's at least partly why I want to do it. I enjoy doing the unexpected, the things people tell me I can't or won't do. Play college tennis? Check. Win a marathon? Check. Donate my hair? We'll see. I've got a good start on it (well, a couple months at least) and I'd hate to ruin that over one bad hair day.
The good news is that every week my hair looks different. I can see progress. So this week it entered an ugly phase. Next week it may be cute again. Or worst case, maybe the week after. Once I can get it in a pony tail my problems are solved. Here's hoping I get that far. Grow, hair, grow! And stay out of my eyes while you're at it. I'd hate to put a hat on you, but I will if I have to. At least until this mop-like/ugly phase is over.
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