I’ve never had long hair. That’s a fact that has put me in much turmoil in my short time on this earth.
When I was really young, my parents kept my hair extremely short. Apparently I did not like getting my hair brushed, and I would speak my mind quite loudly about the subject. That doesn’t sound like me…
But because of this, I look like a boy in every picture (all 6 of them) from when I was little.
As my body grew, my hair for the most part stayed the same length. There would be some years where I would decide to grow it out, but then it would reach shoulder level and I’d think, “how do people have long hair?!” And then I’d grab a pair of scissors and chop off all of my hair a la Edward Scissorhands.
OK, not really. But I wanted to do that quite a few times.
(Honestly, what’s your secret, long-hair ladies? How do you all look so effortlessly put together and cool all the time? I keep telling myself that when the weather starts to cool down things will be better. I’ll probably think the exact opposite when the cool weather finally arrives)
For several reasons 2011 was another year when I decided to grow my hair out. So far I think I’ve done OK. I haven’t made any desperate phone calls to my hair lady. I haven’t shed any tears while fixing my hair (well, maybe a few). It’s a little past my shoulders, and I’m pushing onward and upward. Well, technically downward.
But in the meantime, I’ll keep dreaming that my hair will look like this:
When in reality it will most likely look something along the lines of this: