Hair - not the musical, but just as flamboyant

This is what happens when your sister merely signs up for cosmetology class and provokes an idea to "try out" what kind of skills she may or may not have. It's also what happens when your hippie mother allows it. I don't remember, but I'm sure it went a little something like, "Sure you can try, but not on me. Here, use your sister. School pictures are tomorrow, so make it good." I guess this is my first pixie hair cut. I'm covering my eye in artistic rebellion and expression over my coy rage of my haircut against my will. I'm smiling because it's my birthday, that's cake, and that right there is my all-time favorite placemat.

When my girlfriends say, "I'm thinking about going blonde." or "cutting off my hair", or "getting a perm". I always respond with "OMG - what's wrong? Why are you unhappy?" Because, when a woman wants to change her hair, she wants to change her life, or something in it. Until recently, I firmly believed it. But in the past few years, I've just developed a new philosophy. It goes something like this: "Hey, I have hair! It's just hair. Let's play!"

I've been growing my hair out from a short bob for probably 2 years now. And then I started to get the idea I should cut it. Cut it all off. Like short-short. I opted to wait until I lost some weight. But then that was not happening as swiftly as planned.

I've been denying myself the pixie hair cut out of fear I'd come out looking like a dude. Being 6'3" and having a boxy face and tree trunks for thighs isn't helping. But a pixie hair cut is so cute.

But my long hair I yearned for is usually doubled up in a loose bunnish ponytail. Loose hairs were starting to tease and tickle me when I went for a run. I was clogging the drain with the hair I lost in just one visit to the shower. Drying my hair once a week for church - the rest of the days, it's in that bun mess - I overheat and it's a dedicated arm workout. The decision making moment was when I shut my hair in the car door the other day. I realize I'm no Crystal Gayle, but seriously.

The final straw came when I was caught staring down a beautiful pixie haircut while getting a pedicure. It was a little weird how the woman left so quickly, pointing at me to the manager and all.

And I decided, I'm doing it. It's just hair, right?

I have an old pal, we'll call him "Jett". Jett has always said that he looks forward to my visits. Not because of my fabulous jokes, or my compassion, or my wit and charm. No, not all of that. But, he loves to catch up with me and see what kind of new hair style/cut/color I'm going to have.

I thought he was over reacting. But in looking back, I thought it would be fun to pull a few old pictures of my wild hair adventures.

Oh heck yes. This is about when I'm in high school - Olan Mills family portrait. I couldn't crop out my dad's chin or my sister's shoulder because my hair is THAT big.

Okay, I was visiting a friend and we were sitting by the pool, and I said to this lady with a very cute pixie hair cut, "I. LOVE. YOUR. HAIR! Where did you get it done?" And that's when she made the single worst mistake,in telling me she was a hair dresser. I'm in. I made an appointment for her to do my hair exactly like hers the next day. And it was NOT the same cut. It was this. It was so gross. My only solace is that I'm pretty sure the college check I wrote probably bounced.

Okay, so, I started growing it out, and it got to be fairly fun and cute. What? And I mean, when in doubt, use TOM LANDRY for a hair accessory. Does anyone really care what my hair looks like right now? I don't. Tom Landry doesn't. And the boyfriend who got to piggyback into this picture and eventually get cropped out, he didn't care either. I'm standing with TOM LANDRY!!! Nebraskans won't care about this picture. But all my peeps back in Texas have just a little more respect for me and want to high five me right now.

Blonde long hair. And then I met Ricardo. As you are about to see, this is about as good as it gets.

Okay, y'all. This is on a visit home. I'm laughing because I just licked my sister's face and grossed her out. We'll consider it paybacks for that pixie cut 20 years earlier. Still blonde and long.

We're engaged! Shorter. But still blonde.

Oh Gawd. I told y'all it was about to get bad. Back to dark and short. I only keep this picture around to remind me what not to do. This is post babies. I think it was a desperate attempt for a little extra quiet time at the hair dresser's. I also think it was another desperate attempt to not get the baby death grip on long hair. It turns out, baby death grip applies to any length. There's hair. They'll find it, grab it and pull. Lesson learned.

Okay, we're pulling out of that goth weird look. Somewhere in this phase, I get a strand of neon pink. I really do. Consider it my quest to keep Jett wowed. But I don't think he ever saw the pink. And if he did, he wasn't wowed.

So, here we are now:
I'm starting to pose with my dissatisfaction. Or we can call it my own personal Blue Steel.

Sideview. Wow, it's pretty long. Still auburn. I've decided, just yesterday, that blonde would wash my pasty face out. Yeah, it's the hair color...that's it.

And here's what a visit to my hair goddess looks like. Hey, that's the best my long locks have ever looked, and they're on the floor. What's up with that? We discussed the cut and color. We also discussed if we do the pixie, that means I come get my hair cut more frequently, she'd have to see me more. Laugh at all my jokes more often. Was she okay with that? She said yes, but I think she's a little bit afraid of me. Hey, who's got the power scissors, here? She triple confirmed I was all in and then went to town.

And she did this:
I left her salon knowing good and well I wouldn't be able to style it like this. But after playing with it for a while, I decided I like the whispy lambchop things tucked back behind my ears. But I didn't get a picture of that.The color is a match to my roots, sans the grey. I'm considering letting the grey grow out and be my new highlights.

The real test came today when I was in charge of doing my own hair. We were headed to the zoo. So, I went with a wash and go, whispy messy carefree kind of a thing.

Another sideview. Mind you, I'm making the kids take these pictures at the gas station while the car fills up. Just for you.

I love it. And for the first time in my life, I'm not really seeking approval. I love that it shapes my face and brings my eyes out. And when I got home, Lucy had made a sign for my door that said, "Pixie's room." And Max told me I looked like a teenager.

I'm still getting used to it, but so far I love it.
Song of the day: The Haircut - The Waifs (earmuffs)