Hair, Transformed

Before:

Jan 2012

After:

Feb 2012

Did it. Thought I would.  

Ahh, I feel much better now.  

Now, I would like to add some some funky little chunks of color like red...

I am just never satisfied am I?

Short Hair Signals Life Changes

I’ve noticed a trend.  When my life has a dramatic change, I feel a strong, undeniable, NEED to chop my hair off. 

These aren’t the only times I worn my hair really short, but the drive to chop it all off is what is different.  Lately, I am just annoyed with my hair, that fact that it’s touching my face, hanging in my eyes, just there.  I’ve never been one to have long hair.  My mom never knew what to do with long hair when I was a little girl.  She’s always had shorter hair too.  My fine, thin-ish, hair just hangs straight, without very much body.  I think my hair has been long enough to touch my shoulders (maybe) five times in 35 years.  

There are three times in the past 20 years that I have just needed to cut my hair really short.  It feels like its my inside emotion needing to exclaim through my outside appearance, “I’m now different!  LOOK!  My life has changed.”  

Winter 1996?  My baby brother Michael and Me.

The first time, was the fall of my sophomore year in college, 1996.  I had just transferred schools from a commuter college to college 2 hours from home.  Looking back, I had in fact moved away from home at that moment.  I would go back on vacations or for a long summer stay, but my permanent address wasn’t ever Holly MI again. 

The haircut was not well executed.  I went to a cheap little salon in the college town.  They probably had a coupon or something cheesy.  I remember the guy cutting my hair had a huge scar across his face or throat??  He was a little sketchy looking.  I got the dramatic change I was craving.  I vaguely remember that I then dyed my hair a purplish red color.  This was the time of the Rachel haircut and I must have had the urge to get rid of my blond highlights, poofy-flipped hair do.

I had the same urge to chop my hair when I was a new dietitian, working part-time jobs, attending grad school and slowly extricating myself from a long-term, dead-end relationship.  I was living in a new city, learning to live a new life, studying new things, and making new lifelong friends.  New hair must have been the next logical step.

Jan 2001?  Me with My brothers, Michaal and Andrew.

Most recently, I had my hair cut really short in the Fall of 2009 after leaving a very stressful sales job to work as a dietitian in nursing homes again.  I was a new mom, fairly new-wife and living in the suburbs for the first time.

Dec 2009

As you may have guessed, I find myself at this cross-roads again.  Do I want to commit to the change? Do I express emotions that are tied up in my new mother-of-two-hood, I’m-the-working-parent-and-Daddy-stays-at-home, nursing-momma, longing-to-move-back-to-the-city, possessor-of-a-larger-body-size-than-I’m-used-to, with a dramatic change in the look of my hair?   I think I will. 

Tell me your story – do you feel the need to change your outward appearance with the with major life events?

Mommy Dreams of Preschool, Aidan Whines

Last night I was having warm fuzzy little visions of Aidan’s first day of preschool today. We would have a nice breakfast together. He would be so happy to go, we would walk in, hand-in-hand. Maybe I would get a little teary.

But in reality, Aidan whined all morning.

He didn’t want to have a lunch packed for school. "I wanna eat my lunch at home!"

He pouted, pulling the corners of his mouth down, in this annoying way that he does. He cried and generally acted like a baby.

We tried to be firm but patient, but Mom and Dad were both fed up with his whiney attitude by 9AM.

We threatened. We yelled.

My pleasant visions fell away and were replaced by the reality that 3 year olds are still so young even though they want to be so big. Even though Mom and Dad really need them to act a little more mature.

Aidan was probably anxious and excited but had no idea how to express it. I try to remember what it felt like to go to a new place for the first time and hang out with new kids. It’s hard to be compassionate when the child is testing your sleep-deprived and over-taxed brain. To Aidan’s credit, when we arrived he jumped right in, started looking at toys. This week they are working on the letter V and can bring something from home that starts with V. I have my doubts that we have anything at home that starts with V, besides the vacuum. Varnish maybe – I’ll send a can of varnish to school. I digress.

I was dreaming of a buoyant and loving first day of preschool for my little boy, and he ended up with a rushed, slightly angry and disappointed shove out the door and drop off in a strange place. I’m feeling a little mommy-guilt right now, duh. Hopefully he’s having a great time and eating his lunch while I write this, and not outing at the lunch table and mumbling that “I wanna eat my lunch at home!”