My hair is driving me nuts. Ever since having breast cancer, shaving off my unnaturally brown locks and having to wear a wig for 11 months, I've been dying -- no pun intended -- for my hair to grow back. Now it has and it's making me miserable. When I think of the time when I finally lost the wig, I know I was the happiest. My hair was a mere buzz cut and natural gray (don't tell anyone: I am not a natural blonde). I could wash it every day and since it was about a 1/8" long, drying it was a snap. Since it was super-short, I wore really fun earrings so I would look like I had it going on. Of course, men of every age treated me like I was The Invisible Woman, but other than that, it was cool. One person told me I looked like a super-chic art gallery owner in New York. BINGO! Remind me to write that woman a check because that was exactly the vibe I was trying for. But now it's longer. And blonde. And washing and drying it is a pain. Some days I actually choose to not work out because I just don't want to deal with The Hair. And Jesus knows that any day that my brain says "let's go work out", is a good day -- not one to be ignored because of a few flippy, blonde curls.
So in honor of letting my hair grow, dying it blonde and buckling under to The Man, I want a "do-over". I want to cut it short again (well, maybe not buzz-cut short because I would like to actually date a man again before I die...) and I might think about letting it go to my natural color again. Well, maybe. Perhaps I'm not fully committed to this. But just watch out because I'm thinking about it and when I think about things, anything can happen. Just you wait and see.