Maybe it's the girly-smirly glitter and sparkle that is totally clashing with my mood, or perhaps it's the pepto-bismo pink that isn't agreeing with my emotionallyunstable stomach. Or maybe, and this is my logical guess (thought that's sort of a paradox since no woman thinks in a sane and logical mannar at this time of the month) it is the fact that the pictures I had available last night are a little over a year old. And every time I look at them, I miss my hair.
That's right, because I had this intellectual brain-fart to chop off my hair right before my daughter was born. Why? Because who wants to deal with up-dos and baby barf in their hair? NOT I SAID THE 9 MONTH PREGNANT HIPPO!!
Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change things if I had them to do over again. I was blessed with an Ogre-Child who insisted on regurgitating everything she ate for the first 5 months of life. There is no doubt in my mind that cutting my hair off prevented several bouts of angry cursing as I washed my lovely locks for the fifteenth time that day.
The problem is that I only find two lengths of hair acceptable on my head.
The first is the length you see in the photos. Just long enough to stuff up into hair clips but not so long that it takes 2 hours to wrestle into something managable.
The second is a 1/2 inch long buzz cut with bangs long enough to sweep behind my ear. While some might laugh at seeing this cut on a nearly (and I emphasize 'nearly') 30-year-old mother, I do not care what they think. What I do care is that the cut takes about 5 years off my age, gets my hair off my neck, is easy to manage, and still leaves enough room for some creativity.
Unfortunately, these two hairstyles are NOT compatible with each other. While it takes only 15 minutes to go from the long cut to the short one, it takes about 6 months for me to hate the short cut and another 18 months to grow it back to the length I want it. While I do not so much mind the waiting as I can see a means to an end, I DESPISE the fact that there is not a flattering length between the two.
Let me clarify. When I say 'not a flattering length' I mean that for 18 months my hair looks likeI just crawled through a barb-wire fence surrounding a 3rd world mental institution. My hair goes through stages during this 18-month hair-nightmare.
Stage 1: The Chia Pet - At this point my hair has grown out just enough to be annoying. It has lost it's neat 'buzzed' appearance, and is now sticking straight up in a fashion that makes me debate whether to grow it out or go have it cut back off.
Stage 2: The Caucasian Afro - This is actually just a more extreme version of the Chia Pet. By now I have made the decession to grow my hair out. Unfortunately, the hairs have yet to relearn the concept of laying flat against the scalp and therefore they now stick straight up out of my head in a style that any African American would either envy of laugh at.
Stage 3: The Punk Rocker - This style is almost tolerable. Being a child of the 80's I can semi-tolerate this look as long as I can wear my grunge t-shirts and torn up jeans. Unfortunately, it does not mesh well with my choice of occupation.
Stage 4: The Half Mullet - By now, my hair has grown out long enough to cover my neck. Unfortunately, that only applies to the hair at the neckline. The rest of my hair is layered in a shag fashion on my head. This hairdo can only be rectified by covering it with bandanas or using elastic headbands to revert to something closer to "The Punk Rocker"
Stage 5: The Bob - While my mother finds this cut absolutely adorable on me, the sheer fact that I have 20 times more hair than the average chimpanzee causes a normal bob to stick out from my face approximately 18 inches. Thus turning the 'easy to manage' Bob into an everyday swear-session in order to corral the uncooperative tresses.
Stage 6: The Why The Fuck Am I Growing This Shit Out? - By far one of my least favorite styles. At this point, the hair is almost acceptable. Unfortunately, by almost, I mean that it falls about 1/4 inch of perfect. Meaning that it will not stay up in any form of hair restraining impliment. This means that I must either fill my head with enough metal to pick up local satalite recievers, or let the hair hang where I don't want it.
Stage 7: The Long Hair That I Never Wear Long - Refer to pictures on this site. While it may appear that my long hair has been allowed to freely haing, only a handful of strands have actually been granted that liberty. The remaining hairs are contained with hair impliments at all times. The reason for this is that I CANNOT do anything else with them. My hair refuses curls, rejects hair spray, frizzes at the first sign of moisture or heat, and otherwise falls out of any acceptable hairdo. Thus making me wonder after about 6 months, why I don't just buzz it all off and be done with it!!
I think next time I'll just dye it some freaky color when I get bored. I'll have to ask the boss what she'd think if I showed up to work with pink hair!!