“It will grow back, and when I get sick of it, I’ll just get longer extensions.”
I keep telling myself this. I haven’t had short hair in 6 years. If you have ever sat in my chair, contemplating going short, I probably tried to talk you into keeping some length. I hate the feeling of regret after making a drastic cut.
Luckily, when that regretful feeling rolls in, I’ve got the answer and the inches.
I don’t think I actually really wanted short hair. Last Monday my husband and I were arguing over something, I can’t even remember what it was now. I had a few things to do at the salon so I left the house, feeling that icky feeling, the one that can only be conveyed by such an annoying word.
You know the feeling. It’s the same one you got in high school that prompted you to make a midnight CVS run and box-dye your hair brown. That itching feeling of turmoil; there’s explosions and fireworks going off inside you, but not the fun kind like on the 4th of July. And your skin is just the shell keeping it all in. One more firework, if it’s big enough, and you might explode completely. You aren’t sure what you need, or how to stop it, but you know you need something. #4 Medium Warm Brown, aisle 3. You’ll do.
I was feeling those familiar fireworks inside. I got to the salon and took my extensions out, thinking I’d get a move up in a few days.
I looked at myself. I looked at my own hair. Not horrible, not amazing. Just meh. I needed something. What did I need? Maybe the scissors would help me find it.
I combed my hair down, and adjusted my fingers up and down a few inches. Shorter. Longer. Shorter. Then chop. I was almost surprised by the crisp sound of hair being sliced snd severed so close to my own ear. Holy shit. Well, am I doing this? I guess I’ll wear it short for a while.
I finished my cut and didn’t recognize myself. I got home, my husband kissed me and told me he liked it. I don’t think my kids recognized me. I loved it that whole day. I loved it the next day. The third day, it set in, and I felt like Dora the Explorer.
I did it. Now I have to live with it. I didn’t notice when my hair was longer and my extensions were in, but I basically had a cul de sac of postpartum hairloss at each of my temples. With it short, I flipped it back and forth doing deep side parts, looking in my car visor mirror, swearing to myself that I used to have more hair than that. Thanks, hormones.
I went back to work, did some gorgeous color and extension work on all of these long-haired beauties, and face-palmed myself. You guys complimented my new impulse decision. My hype crew. Thank you. I could have asked Savannah to put 3 rows of hair back in immediately, but I decided to be a drama queen and embrace my new look, as a martyr for impulsive hair decisions.
I still needed just a little help though. That forehead cul de sac wasn’t forgiving. Savannah gave me some highlights and added one row to fill in my front and sides, and I feel okay with things for now. I drool a little when I take my clients after pics, but of all the areas of my life to make a rash decision, I guess hair is the best option.
Now, almost 2 weeks since that feeling, I’m not worried about when my hair will grow back. I guess that is kind of freeing. I can rock this for as long as I want, and the next time I feel those weird fireworks, I can change it up and add those inches.
If you’ve made an impulsive decision regarding your hair, and you’re not enjoying the repercussions, I think I can help ya out.
Click here and fill out my application. No judgement if you’re starting off with something ratchet or embarrassing. That CVS aisle 3 and I saw a lot of each other back in high school. The firework feelings happen.