Being the erratic spontaneous wack job that I am, I decided at work yesterday that I wanted to chop my hair off. I discussed it a bit with my splendid co-workers and it was decided. I called the hair salon and made an appointment with my stylist, who is brilliant with my hair.
I went home and I didn’t say anything to anyone else. No, “Oh my god, Matt! I’m chopping my hair off!” I was on the phone with my mom for a while and resisted (the family’ll see me tomorrow).
I woke up, and off I went to my appointment. Not a shred of nervousness or regret brewing. “I want to chop it all off.” My stylist was all for it. He figured out a very flattering cut for me and we were off. In addition, he mentioned something that made all the difference in this experience. He suggested that I donate my hair. I had totally forgotten that was an option!
Now, I feel that I must talk a bit about my hair. I have this weird obsession with wanting to have the longest hair in the room. Since it was in the middle of my back, this was usually easily accomplished. And I wanted it to grow and grow and grow forever. Like back in high school when it was down to my waist. And then I looked in the mirror and went, “Blah! What am I doing? Yep, it’s long. Longer than most people’s. But it’s also really heavy. And it keeps causing pulled muscles in my neck. And I only do three things with it. And I never brush it. And when I do, I kind of don’t like how it looks. And it’s kind of lame to keep it this long.” Hence the journey. And the subsequent new do.
Tomorrow, I’ll send my hair off to Locks of Love and I’m so excited that I can help out in this particular way. It’ll give some little girl a chance to have long hair, too.
And I LOVE my new hair cut!