I've had long hair my entire life. The color has changed a few times, but for the most part, my hair has been long and straight.
I've been through a lot with my hair. By looking at the condition and length of someone's hair you can tell where they have been – kind of like reading a history book or looking at a timeline. It came to college with me, went through times of trials and tribulations with me, has been to awesome concerts with me and has been with me through a couple of dates, too (we won't go into details). It has smelled like Herbal Essences after a refreshing shower and it has smelled like smoke after leaving bars and restaurants that don't yet have the smoking bans. For the most part, all of my friends even have the same length of hair. Having my hair has always been like a security blanket for me. When I get nervous, it's there for me to twist, flip and play with. I can leave it down or I can put it up.
That was before I cut 9 inches of my beautiful, beloved locks this past weekend. The way it happened was so spontaneous. I've always had the idea of cutting it short, and it's always something I admire on other girls but wouldn't dare do for myself … or would I?
It was Friday evening and I decided to call my hairdresser out of the blue to see if she could squeeze me in while I was down in Denver for the weekend. Like a blur, I left Fort Collins the next day and made my way down, knowing at the least I would get my split ends cut off and a touch-up on my roots in case I chickened out on the giant chop. Upon arriving, I walked into the salon with an uncertainty and nervousness about what was going to happen.
My hairdresser, Angie, ushered me into her chair and began a Q & A of what I wanted. I beat around the bush for a few minutes until I finally brought up cutting it short. Before I knew it, Angie was braiding my long hair into a braid. Out came the scissors, and snap! In a flash, my head felt significantly lighter. I ran my fingers through my short tresses and realized what I had just done. I looked in the mirror and my hair didn't even go down to my shoulders. To add to the trauma, she proceeded to put these outrageous reddish-pink rock-star streaks into my hair. After the initial shock, I sat for a while contemplating what I had just done. It felt good actually doing something I didn't think I would have the courage to do.
After about 15 or 20 minutes of analyzing, I was ready to make my new appearance into the world, starting with the parking lot and its passersby. I waltzed my way out of the salon, leaving all of my hair, or "history," behind me. I left all the bad-breakups I've been through. I left the nasty fights my friends and I have ever gotten into. I left all the drama anyone has ever caused me, and all the drama that I had ever caused.
With this New Year, my resolution is to try new things that I may have not considered previously. Who knows, maybe I'll go skydiving or travel outside the country for the first time. Maybe I'll even talk one of my friends into cutting her hair short. No matter what I do, I'll have an awesome hairstyle to get me through it.