Haircut

Earlier this Spring, one of the other day-care moms--actually, my favorite other day-care mom, if I exempt the women I was previously friends with from that private competition--showed up at pick-up time with a dramatic haircut. Summertime? I asked her. Oh, well, she said, I was just growing it for Locks of Love.

So. I've been going in after the tangled ends on my own pretty frequently, but I hadn't had a proper cut since A. took maybe 3 or 4 inches off sometime in the Fall of 2004. Yes, it is significant that that was before Z. was born, thank you for asking. I've been hiding. And I haven't stopped quite yet, but I have recognized that staying huddled in isolation is not a long-term strategy for healthy living.

Locks of Love needs a 10-inch minimum. I cut 14, putting the tip of the paper-cutting scissors right into the middle of the braid. The first cut was thrilling--no going back. It took three cuts altogether.

To me it seems hugely light and easily contained, but I can still twist it up, wrap it in a full knot around itself, tuck in the ends, and insert chopsticks (yes, that is how I'm wearing it today, so as to garner minimal comments from staff). Loose, it still hangs to my elbows, which is the length it's been most of my life.

I've let go of the idea that I'll get magically better and have my old self back. But I'm starting to see more continuity with that me and this one.