This week, I cut off my hair.
This may not seem like a big deal to most folks. After all, it's hair. Hair grows. Hair gets cut. It is the way of things.
But here, my hair cutting is an event worthy of blogging. For one, the last time it happened, Andy was a babe in arms. Three years ago- my life was so completely different, the only thing I can say is, way back in that other life, there was time to get a hair cut.
For two, my boys accepted the change without a hitch. There was a time when cutting my hair- a sudden change in appearance- would have been very upsetting to Joey. He still gets excited if he catches me with my hair down, like when I brush it in the morning, or if I need to fix and replait it during the day. It's different, Mommy looks funny with all that hair everywhere. Andy thinks its funny, too- especially playing peek-a-boo with Cousin It.
And finally, there's something odd about going from hair to your butt to hair only to your shoulder. It now only takes me three minutes to shampoo my hair. Weird.
It has to be done occasionally, mind you. Otherwise the weight pulls it out, and at my age, hair loss can be permanent. Also, it tends to get a little frayed, since I don't have time to take care of butt-length hair properly.
And hey, even with trimming up the ends, I have twelve inches to send to Locks of Love!