Bad Hair Days

Before I turned 20, I used to cut my hair on whims.
At the change of seasons, for instance.
At the end of the school year.
Or the beginning of the school year.
When a relationship ended.
Because I was bored.

I'd go from shoulder-length hair to something similar to a boy's cut without a second thought.
And it was okay.
In fact, at one point, my high school boyfriend's mother enjoyed harassing him because my hair was shorter than his for a while. 
I'd do double-takes in the mirror for the first day or two, but then the new style was mine, and it was all good.

But, somewhere along the line, I read an article that indicated a woman who changes her hairstyle often might have some mental or emotional issues she is denying.
I didn't seriously think that was me, but...

It was after one particular breakup and its consequential haircut that I looked at myself in the mirror and decided that I really didn't like how I looked with short hair anymore.  Short hair, I realized, made my face look chubby and round.
And I told myself that no guy was worth chopping off my hair anymore.  If I needed a change, it didn't have to be my hair... anymore.

I made a committment to myself, and spent about two years growing my bangs out to be even in length with the rest of my hair.  Over the course of a few months, I shifted the part in my hair just a little each day until I got it trained to behave on the rightside of my head.  The changes were so gradual, no one noticed.

This is how I wore my hair for the next quarter century.
The Husband had never known me with any other hair style.  He'd seen pictures, but those were "then".  You know, like the house where you used to live or the cars you used to drive.
Or, blouses with padded shoulders.

So, you understand how when I cut my hair several weeks ago, The Husband was traumatized.
He didn't like it.
It was completely unfamiliar territory for him.

But, for me...
It was like going home.
I felt like I should grab a hoe and go walking barefoot through a field of beans.

Still, you could tell from what I posted about it that it wasn't right.

So, I went back to the salon after a few weeks, and... got it cut shorter.
And you know what? 
Now it looks right.

"Oh my god!" was The Husband's reaction.  "You cut it shorter!"

To his credit, however, he says the style suits me much better now than it did in the pictures of me from way back when.

I've told him I'm so very sorry.
But, I really like it this way.
I don't have a half an hour to fuss over hair.  I just wanna towel dry it, run some gel through it and walk out the door.
Every time I pass myself in the mirror, I do the double-take like I used to, only now I do it because I really like the way this looks.

I can't post a pic for you, but I think I look like this.
Only with 25 years added on.  Okay?

Moving on...

The day after this most recent haircut, The Husband and I were discussing the frustrating stuff happening at work.  My snark meter was pegging the red pretty hard when The Husband made a comment that was supposed to be funny, but I didn't take the joke well and replied with something not very nice.
He said, "You know, you were happier when you had longer hair."

And I snapped back, "Well, obviously something's wrong..." (pointing at my head) "...because look what I did!"

Yeah.
Look at what I did.
That's when a few things started falling into place for me.

It was the ex-boyfriend all over again.
I needed a change.
So, I changed the hair.

Huh.

I suppose if I have to be honest, I probably should seriously consider changing jobs.

::shrug::
In any case, I do like the way I look... no matter how I got here.