On Friday, I donated 9 inches of my hair and went from boring but predictable long hair that I didn't really have to fix and that went well with every hat I own, to short, choppy, trendy hair that I have to fix and that I can't wear a hat with or I'll be mistaken for a boy. I considered going slowly with the hair loss and starting with a short, choppy bob, then changed my mind and put my cards on the table. It really was liberating to feel Gabby cut my ponytail off and to shake my head and feel no weight. I didn't love how she fixed it but could tell it was a great cut, so I went home, washed it and fixed it myself, as best as I could without any hair product. It's been so long since I've had short hair, that I completely forgot how impossible it is to style it without a bunch of goop to put in it.
I posted pictures on Facebook and reveled in all the nice compliments from my friends who admired my bravery and loved my new look. My kids got off the bus and I could tell Katie was thrilled. She couldn't stop giggling and staring at me. Alli wanted to keep running her fingers through my hair. Grant, bless his heart, said, "Mom - I love you so much and I hope you don't take this the wrong way. You look REALLY pretty with your new hair cut, but I like the old way better. I hope you're not mad at me?" Isn't he sweet? I was feeling really good about my decision.
Then Curt, my husband, got home and I could tell from his first look that he was less than impressed. All he said was, "It doesn't look like the picture." I couldn't let it go, so I pressed him, hoping he'd say something sweet to make me feel better. He said, "I'm not going to lie. I don't like it that much." Of course I got my feelings hurt, and with added hormones raging, I was actually crying within an hour. He got to put up with hormone-induced comments between sobs. At one point I remember muttering, "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks if you don't think I'm pretty..." A truly lovely scene to behold.
The next day things started improving. We were having a work day with my Dad - cutting, chopping and stacking wood all day. Several times I caught Curt staring at me and smiling. By mid-day he said, "Your hair is really growing on me. I really like it a lot. You look so adorable. I don't know WHO I was looking at yesterday." My face lit up, I puffed up my chest, stood a little straighter, made sure he was watching, grabbed my axe and split a piece of wood on the first chop. A few minutes later I was rewarded with a sweet, "I've never seen anything prettier stacking wood before." As I waltzed away beaming, I tossed my hair and knew I'd never felt prettier!