Colts 42, Rams 6
We Know Better
5 days ago
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow...
It started out one day as a thought.
I could give it away.
My hair, that is.
I'm not sure where I heard about Locks of Love. But immediately, it sounded like a perfect fit for me. I don't have a lot of money. I haven't done a lot of volunteer work. I don't have a lot of special talents to offer the world. But hair? Hair I can grow. So I did.
First, I had to grow out the color. The bad color. Like a blonde that was so beyond nature and just not a good color for that lovely white skin I inherited for my mom's side of the family. And it wasn't a nice experience, this growing out the blonde. I didn't think it looked too bad - until I looked at pictures of our family vacation to Walt Disney World and saw that my DARK roots extended down to my chin. Yeah...nice, right?
But eventually my bad-blonde job turned into just blonde tips. Which is cool if you're a member of N*Sync. Which I'm not. But I did finally just get the blonde tips cut off.
Then, while I was growing it out, I wanted some shape and volume to my baby-fine dishwater yellow hair. So I added layers. Which, now that I think about it, may have been defeating the purposes of a) adding volume and b) growing my hair out to donate.
And then it was bangs.
I thought it would be hard to part with the hair that I've been growing for 6 years. I thought I would miss the length and cry least a little. But do you know what happens when you grow out baby-fine hair without any shape or style? It starts looking a little stringy. And even thinner. And you go through like 3 bottles of conditioner for every one bottle of shampoo, just trying to limit the tangles you're going to have to fight with. And hair drying becomes an ordeal. And you constantly find yourself without a rubber band, or a scruncy, or a hair clip...
So today, which I was having my hair washed before a trim, I got into a conversation with Stacy, the stylist.
"I'm trying to grow my hair out long enough to donate it."
"How long do you want it to be before you donate it?"
"Well, I won't go shorter than chin length."
"You're there."
And so, without any tears, or doubts, or hestitation, I said, "Let's go for it."
She brushed it out, she eye-balled it, then measured it to make sure. Two long side pony tails and then...
Snip. Snip.
And it was gone.
As she shaped and styled my hair, I looked at those two pony tails and felt...not remorse, not regret. Excitement. Reborn. Free!!!
I could give it away.
My hair, that is.
I'm not sure where I heard about Locks of Love. But immediately, it sounded like a perfect fit for me. I don't have a lot of money. I haven't done a lot of volunteer work. I don't have a lot of special talents to offer the world. But hair? Hair I can grow. So I did.
First, I had to grow out the color. The bad color. Like a blonde that was so beyond nature and just not a good color for that lovely white skin I inherited for my mom's side of the family. And it wasn't a nice experience, this growing out the blonde. I didn't think it looked too bad - until I looked at pictures of our family vacation to Walt Disney World and saw that my DARK roots extended down to my chin. Yeah...nice, right?
But eventually my bad-blonde job turned into just blonde tips. Which is cool if you're a member of N*Sync. Which I'm not. But I did finally just get the blonde tips cut off.
Then, while I was growing it out, I wanted some shape and volume to my baby-fine dishwater yellow hair. So I added layers. Which, now that I think about it, may have been defeating the purposes of a) adding volume and b) growing my hair out to donate.
And then it was bangs.
I thought it would be hard to part with the hair that I've been growing for 6 years. I thought I would miss the length and cry least a little. But do you know what happens when you grow out baby-fine hair without any shape or style? It starts looking a little stringy. And even thinner. And you go through like 3 bottles of conditioner for every one bottle of shampoo, just trying to limit the tangles you're going to have to fight with. And hair drying becomes an ordeal. And you constantly find yourself without a rubber band, or a scruncy, or a hair clip...
So today, which I was having my hair washed before a trim, I got into a conversation with Stacy, the stylist.
"I'm trying to grow my hair out long enough to donate it."
"How long do you want it to be before you donate it?"
"Well, I won't go shorter than chin length."
"You're there."
And so, without any tears, or doubts, or hestitation, I said, "Let's go for it."
She brushed it out, she eye-balled it, then measured it to make sure. Two long side pony tails and then...
Snip. Snip.
And it was gone.
As she shaped and styled my hair, I looked at those two pony tails and felt...not remorse, not regret. Excitement. Reborn. Free!!!
Sunday, October 4, 2009
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