I call it a "mom bun" but I think that's still an insult to a bun, and most days I feel like the only disheveled mom at MyGym classes with what can only be described as a five pound weight sitting on my head in the form of a halfway-but-not-all-the-way-through ponytail. The summer makes it all worse and certainly erases any motivation I have to do my hair, so I was finding myself breaking five elastic bands at a time until one held long enough to get me through half a day with my mangled, matted, messy half-bun, half-ponytail of doom. That was a wake up call that long hair -- my long hair -- just wasn't feasible right now.
As the days leading up to my hair appointment went on, I kept telling my husband I was going to shave my head. "That's it, all of it, it's gone." I was totally kidding but the thought was strangely appealing. As usual, I'm the least fashion conscious person on the planet and told my amazing, awesome, fantastic hair stylist to just cut it all off, but keep it a little bit long enough that I can pull the bulk of it up if I need to but no bangs and thinned out anyway possible, choppy layers being totally acceptable and welcomed. Yeah. Still, despite my obnoxiously tall order, my hair stylist pulled through as usual. For the first time ever since I was a kid, I have short hair. And I love it.
If you could have seen the hair that came off my head -- not just from the length cut, but the bulk of it during the thinning out process -- you would understand completely how much better I feel. My hair doesn't feel like I'm balancing a bowling ball on my head anymore and hair bands? Forget it, I can even bobby pin it back if I need to wash my face. I'm totally a convert and proud new member of the short hair club and, you know, it's nice to feel halfway human again.