No, this is not a figure of speech.
I shaved my head.
To some of you I'm sure this seems extreme or possibly insane. Probably mostly those of you who don't actually know me. Those who do know me know that I've taken my hair all that seriously. I've had my hair pretty much every length...except past my shoulders.
I lack the patience, the ambition, the drive to grow my hair that long.
My mother kept my hair short as a child, she too lacked the requisite patience for my very thick hair. So, for most of my early childhood I sported a very fashion-forward mullet (it was the early 80s people).
It haunts me still.
I think the mullet may be the ultimate source of my lack of self confidence, my body dysmorphia, my general mess-up-edness.
No wait, that has to do with dance recitals and being forcefully dressed up like Winnie-the-Pooh and a piglet.
Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to dress impressionable little girls like pigs and roly-poly bears? Screwed me for life.
The fear of a return of the tragedy of the mullet is the one thing I can't abide when it comes to my hair.
The reason I neglected to post a "before" shot of my hair here is actually because I was starting to fear that mullet syndrome was setting in.
I haven't been to see my hairdresser in a while. He was also my Mom's hairdresser (since she was pregnant with me) and he's more than just the dude with the scissors to me. I can't face him yet.
As a result my hair was having issues, major issues. It had grown out to something between a bob and...a mullet. A couple of weeks ago I chopped off my bangs, which calmed me down some. But last night I couldn't take it anymore.
I took my scissors and started hacking at chunks, that way I couldn't go back. Then I grabbed Seabass' trimmer and went to town.
And now here we are. Feels awesome.
Seabass hasn't seen it yet.
Are these the kinds of decisions that I should be making with him in mind?
Meh, it grows back...and I feel great.
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