My Hair.

It has been chopped.

Not quite sure if I love it yet…

Last time I had hair this short, I was TWO.

Last time I had bangs, I was 13.

So this hairchop is a big change for me.

I’ve been wanting to try SHORT hair for a few years, but every time I went under the knife, (or shears, as the case may be), I chickened out big time. After all, I like long, flowing, shiny red hair. It’s pretty. And feminine. And a ton of work.

So on Friday afternoon, I left Jay and Rose with the Whites and power-walked 23 minutes from their house to a salon in downtown Grandview. When the first long lock fell to the floor, I was thinking ohmygoodness ohmygoodness ahhh ahhhh over and over. But it got easier with each snip. Then the girl started applying the sticky stuff.

This is what I looked like with 5 different gels, mousses, and sprays caked on right after I got home from the salon. I was kind of freaking out. Believe it or not, this hair was much taller and puffier before this picture, but I mashed it down a lot on the way home. When I ran my fingers through my hair, it stood straight up from all that goop that was in it, like prom hair. Yikes, if there’s one thing I don’t want to relive, it’s prom. Things were not looking good.

I took a shower and blow-dried my hair and straightened it. This was the result. NOT comforting. What had I done?? My cowlick forced my bangs over and made me look manly.

It was even worse in the morning—poofy bedhead! eek.

So I tamed it as best I could and went on a run. Running helps me relax and calms my nerves like nothing else. By the time I finished 6 miles, I felt like I could handle ANY crazy haircut. Plus, it was really nice running without a floppy ponytail.

So I came home, showered, donned my new purple coat, and drove to Target to find some hair STUFF to help. Mousse in moderation is magic! My confidence was restored once I put some of that white foamy stuff in my hair. It helps my bangs hang where they’re supposed to, more or less. Whew.

I hope I don’t look too OLD for a 25 year old in this new hair. But it is SO easy and comfy that I don’t really care if I do look “too old for my age.” All I have to do is towel it dry, apply a little magic (mousse) and vamoosh, all done! I don’t even have to blow it dry. Ah-mazing. I could get used to this.

What an emotional rollercoaster all because of HAIR.

Now I can have the convenience of short hair and live vicariously through my daughter. Isn’t that what parenthood is all about? At least one of us can wear ponytails!