Talkin' Bout an Evolution

I have almost always had long(ish) hair.

Layered hair, a variation of "The Rachel" for as many years as I can remember (if only I looked like "The Jennifer").

After a really rough year, 2 surgeries, and lifeless looking hair, it was time for a change.

So, about 8 weeks ago, I went from this:

To this (here I was the day after the cut celebrating as Hubby received his MBA in Tax Accounting):

(about a week later on a family trip to the zoo)

I had been toying with the idea of the "inverted bob" for some time, but almost lost my nerve when I got into the chair. I mean, I was cutting off 6 inches all around, 7 to 8 in some of the back areas.

I was pretty sure I liked it, and after a couple of days of mirror shock (you know, the HOLY CRAP every time you catch a glimpse of yourself, forgetting that the reflection is, well, you), along with many compliments from friends, family, and even strangers, I loved it.

I have to say that after months of no makeup and pulling my hair back into a ponytail, all that hair dropping on the floor felt like a huge weight being lifted off of me.

It was freeing. Empowering. I was a new woman.

And 7 weeks passed.

And all of a sudden my hair felt too long.

Too long?

You be the judge (self portrait taken 3 days ago before lunching with the ladies):

Clearly, my hair was in no way long. It just felt . . . overgrown. Now that I was short-haired gal, I wanted it short.

Today's trip to the hairdresser produced the shortest hairstyle I have ever worn.

And it caused me a little stress.

I was expecting the same cut, but a little, well, shorter.

I got the shorter part.

I also got heart palpitations as she made the first few cuts.

But I had faith.

I LOVE my hairdresser.

I TRUST my hairdresser.

At one point I lost faith.

I lost trust.

(I feel a little bad about that, I mean it is just hair, after all)

But, true to form, she came through for me.

So, without further ado, the newly evolved Mommy:

From the front (darn Hubby and his close-up shots!)

And the back:
I like it. Really, I do.

But I also keep staring at myself in disbelief, silently reminding myself it will grow.

I pass a mirror and get a nervous feeling in my tummy.

I don't know why, really.

Am I too vain?

Do I just need a little more confidence?

It's a haircut. It will grow (FYI, I am aware that I keep repeating this).

Apparently, quite quickly if it's anything like the last one.

I think I'm not used to being so trendy.

My cuts aren't usually so hip and high-maintenance looking (I say looking because the short cut is far easier to manage than long hair)

I can't put it in a ponytail when I'm having a bad hair day.

I feel like it stands out and calls attention to me, which is not something I normally prefer to do.

I've got the Mad Hatter to take care of that.

Then I think of Hubby's reaction when he got home from work.

I was surprised, he likes long hair and I thought it would take him some getting used to.

Instead, he has taken to calling me Posh. And telling me I look hot (thanks sweetie, but Posh, I am not - I could go into the many quite obvious differences, but I'll leave it at the fact that I quite enjoy smiling).

In her infinite wisdom, the MH had told me earlier that Daddy would LOVE my hair because it was so bee-you-tee-ful.

I should learn to listen to her opinions!

And maybe those of the 3 different strangers who have approached me since said haircut and complimented my hair.

I know in a couple of days I will be just fine.

I will go from being "ok" with it, to loving it.

I just need to lose the mirror shock, push away the self-conscious part of my brain wondering aloud if my face looks fat, and revel in the updated, fun, and stylish new me - maybe just the me I need to be right now.

And remind myself to revisit this blog entry before my next cut.

I will. not. go. shorter than THIS.