From the summer of 2004 and until March 1 of this year, I did not get my hair cut (that’s if you exclude the couple of 1-centimeter trims).
When my daughters told me for the zillionth time that they were never cutting their hair again and would let it grow as long as it could, I decided to show them how it’s done. A little friendly competition. A contest without prizes. Simply put, whichever of us kept growing our hair the longest, won.
Three years into the “competition” my daughters decided they were ready to find their own styles and abandon the length that kept our competition going. Last summer, then, they each had their hair chopped to very near their shoulders and with layers. Mine, on the other hand, was all one length and reached my lower back. I won the prizeless contest. Whoo hoo!
Even then, I wasn’t so anxious to cut my hair. I had worked too hard to grow it out; I certainly wasn’t ready to give it up. Even though it got in my way all the time, was too thick to wear comfortably in a ponytail and always whapped my husband in the face when I turned over at night, keeping it long was what I wanted to do.
Seven months had passed since my girls got their “fashion hairstyles” on. During those seven months, much changed around us, most of it out of my control, including the most recent: sudden catastrophic employment changes due to a dishonest boss.
After a couple of weeks of toying with the idea, it was suddenly time to cut my hair. I didn’t know why; it was just time. Off we went to my daughters’ stylist for a haircut. When we left there my hair was about fifteen inches shorter than it was when we entered.
Without even one regret.
I expected to get up the next morning and experience sadness about my decision. No sadness. Still no regret. Why?
As I faced the new day I felt different somehow — more confident, perhaps — and I finally understood what motivated me to have my long hair chopped off: control over change.
Amid all the changes that had tossed us around the greater part of these last two years, I needed a change that I had control over. I needed at least one change that would not knock me onto my butt. A change that wouldn’t sucker punch my family and me. Just one change that is what it is, and nothing else…no surprises.
Simple, therapeutic….just a haircut? Maybe next time.
For now it is so much more.
© Alexa Lopez 2008
did the same thing but for different reasons! i was so fed up going to hairdressers nd coming out disappointed before going home nd crying in front of a mirror for hours on end! i decided enough is enough i am NEVER going to a hairdressers again. went three years without a hairdressers appointment i was twelve when i started fifteen when i broke under severe peer pressure! all the girls my age coming into school with lovely golden highlights, side fringes nd layers something had to be done! so i took the plunge bit the bullet nd went to a hairdressers! nd for the first time i left happy! i loved my shorter blonder layered hair! only problem was i had now joined the clone era where everybody looked the same!