Jan. 20th, 2011

lemon_says: (Default)
I've never been hung up on my hair, as many of you know. It's been several different colors and lengths that range from down to my waist to up to my ears. I've cried over a bad haircut only once (seventh grade), although I have had some doozies. My not getting a haircut for 16 months has nothing to do with my hair, because, after all, it's just hair.

It was the act of getting it cut.

I imagine that when I posted that I was getting a haircut on FB, many people were likely confused by the kind words of support from many of my friends. Most people don't need a pep talk or hand-holding for a haircut, and they likely think it was upsetting to cut off a lot of long hair. (It wasn't, by the way: it's still long, but I lost three inches--hairstylist inches, not those itty bitty fake inches.)

So, when I launched into my explanation of why I had not had a haircut in so long, I immediately teared up and got sniffy. [livejournal.com profile] travellight had given her the rundown on my relationship with Andreana, so Christine, the stylist, understood.

I have two weights off my shoulders: the weight of all that damn hair, and the weight of dreading going back into a salon. It still feels strange, to share a salon with other people, and to not really know the person cutting my hair. I had to explain that yes, it really is white, and about my cowlicks and curls and everything, but it wasn't so bad.

Andreana would like my haircut. It looks great, it looks like me, and she'd be pleased. Maybe she is pleased.

I can separate my hair from the death of my friend. It's just hair.


lemon_says: (Default)

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