I got a haircut last Friday.
To those of you who don’t know me in person, that probably seems like a very trivial thing to blog about. Surely lots of people got haircuts last Friday. But that was my first haircut in almost eight years. So it’s not really trivial to me.
My hair had been down past my waist. Now it’s about to the middle of my back. I wanted to wait to get it cut until I could sit on it, but it hadn’t actually gotten longer for two or three years. The ends were too old and brittle and kept breaking. And it had gotten to the point that I couldn’t leave it down for a day without it being a pain to brush out the next morning – those damaged ends again. So I gave in.
I discovered when looking for ideas about long haircuts that people do not know the definition of the word “long”. If someone’s hair is slightly past their shoulders, it’s supposedly considered long. I’m sorry, but no. Just no. I was rather amused.
Now, you’d think that when you get six or seven inches of hair chopped off, your roommate at least would notice. Nope. I even had to point it out to her. *Sigh* Oh, well.
I wasn’t sure I would like it. Thursday night I kept deliberating about it. I liked my long hair. But it’s still long, and long enough that I can do things with it, even though it feels incredibly short to me. And it’s nice that all the dry, damaged ends are gone. So I think I’m glad I did it. Even though it was one of the most impulsive decisions I’ve ever made.