|Source: The Makeover Guy|
I'm very attached to my hair. I do almost nothing with it each day, but it sorta behaves, most days. Once I learned (at about 12 years old) that brushing it was a bad idea, it has given me very little drama (unlike, say, my butt and my thighs).
I own about 100 eye shadow colors. When I am getting ready for a night out on the town, I take about 30 minutes to apply my make-up and consider it a very critical element of outfit. I plan it out and think it through: do I want a smoky eye and a nude lip or a hot pink lip and a subtle eye? Or do I want a pin-up girl style eyeliner for the night, or is that too expected along with my dress? I can do just about anybody's make-up.
Hair, on the other hand? I can only do my own...just barely.
That's why I love it so much. That's why I'm so attached to it. Because it demands so little from me. It doesn't make me go to the gym every morning at 5:00 am for a boot camp class that makes me wanna throw up and then all I have to show for it is that if I flex my thigh really hard and I squint a little and I've had absolutely no sodium for the week then maybe I have a little muscle definition and almost no cellulite. My hair, with little to no effort, usually looks pretty good. To me, anyways. My hair is sorta part of My Thing (so much so that it's already been featured in this blog here and here). It's always been blond, it's always been wavy, and it's usually been long. It's more Drew Barrymore in one of those paparazzi pictures where she's in cargo pants and flip flops than it is Blake Lively. I don't like to change it very much. I'm less hesitant to go out and get a tattoo than I am to change my hairstyle.
I remember once, at a book club meeting, the topic came up about shaving our heads for a friend going through chemo. (The main character had been battling cancer in the book, and her 3 best friends surprised her with shaved heads.) Both of my book club members declared, with absolute certainty, that they would absolutely, most definitely shave their heads to show their support. I, on the other hand, declared, with absolute certainty, that I would not. They were aghast. They were shocked. They were indignant. And then I reminded one of them that she had shaved her hair once "just for fun," and reminded the other one that she could care less about her short little cropped do. Then, I asked them: "Would you gain 50 pounds in support of a friend going through an illness?" They were aghast. They were shocked. They were stumbling: Uh, well, ah, ahem, uh, no. I, on the other hand, had no problems with that. (Note: When my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer last year and learned that she'd lose her trademark mane of freakishly long Sofia Vergara-like hair, she immediately made me promise that I would not do anything crazy like shave my head for her, because really, what good would that do, and she would be really, really pissed if I did that. Thanks, Sis.)
So now, that I have been longing for bangs, maybe even considering another shorter crop, I know something's up.
When I want to make a change to my hair, when I keep thinking about it, when I actually consider just going to the salon and spontaneously telling my girl to "do something," I know that it's usually a sign of Something Else.
I get like this sometimes. Always have. It's in my nature. My head is always going, and I get bored easily. I need stuff. Not stuff like buying stuff, but stuff like doing stuff. And I haven't done stuff in a long time. Life's been busy since back-to-school, and I've been doing all the things I have to do: being a good teacher, wife, and Mommy, waking up when it's still dark to go to the gym, packing healthy lunches for everyone, following our new budget, checking homework, monitoring bedtimes...
So I know, when I started thinking bangs were a good idea...bangs that would require me to blow-dry after every shower, style each day, pin back while working out, change my beachy no-fuss look...that something must be up in my head. Now I just have to figure out what it is. And really, if I don't, what's the worst thing that's gonna happen? It'll grow back, right? Right?!?