If you follow me on instagram you probably caught my photo and caption yesterday afternoon regarding my lack of ability to ever commit to growing out my short hair for more than a few months. It went a little something like this:
I just couldn’t do it anymore. It usually gets to about the length it had gotten to, and something deep inside me starts feeling frumpy and completely non-attached to the process of growing it any longer. Here’s the series of events that led to the
unfortunate and immediate demise of my grow-out:
- The weather started really heating up this past week.
- It started taking me longer and longer to do my hair, with more product and more blow-drying and way more gadgets than I am used to (actual brushes and flat-irons? the horror!)… and in the end I was only semi-satisfied with the final ‘do about 40% of the time.
- I started thinking about the amount of time it was taking me to get a decent-looking style and the fact that I am not going to have that kind of time to spend on my hair once October rolls around and I am kind of busy with something else (oh yeah, that baby thing). And then I started fantasizing about how it used to take me approximately 4 minutes to blow dry and style my super short hair, and it always looked good. Sighhhh.
- Instead of gazing longingly at pictures of Carey Mulligan or Emma Watson and their commitment to grow-out (my usual inspiration), I started looking at pictures of Halle Berry (pregnant, and hot with short hair, no less… if you follow me on Pinterest, you’d have noticed those pins!) and Charlize Theron and Natalie Portman (her pixie era). It was downhill from there.
- THEN, I admitted to Tim that I was considering giving up growing it and just cutting it off again… his response? “DO IT. I’ve been hoping you would.” Well that was basically the final nail in the coffin! But in case I wasn’t convinced, he proceeded to dive into a monologue on all the reasons I should cut it off, which half-shocked me but mostly made me crack up. Something involving boxed wine and soap operas between play dates with the rest of the soccer moms that would all look just like me if I had the grown-out “mom hair”. HA! That guy, I tell ya. He is a keeper.
So upon cutting it (myself, in my bathroom, as per usual), I immediately felt like myself again! After multiple attempts at grow-out, I’m finally beginning to realize that maybe I’m just destined to be a short-haired gal for life. And I’m okay with that.
Oh, and in case you are new to the ‘Diaries and you don’t believe me that I’ve been through this before… let’s take a walk down memory lane, shall we? Just for fun!
Remember this? The beginnings of a short “bob” by my standards, when I was just starting to get used to a new phase of growth… circa October 2012.
I cut short bangs, played around with headbands, and stood on my toilet for photos.
December meant holiday parties and a pro cut in an actual salon (that I promptly came home to “fix” myself).
Aaaand by January 2012, approximately four-to-five months into the grow-out, I started looking at old pictures of myself with short hair, making photo collages and taking a poll on Facebook to get opinions on whether I should grow it or cut it…
And then a day later, this happened:
And there you have it. I’m a hair-growth-commitment-phobe. Not really. I just reeeeeally like it short. Really. The end.
Have a great weekend and remember… some spotty posting over the next few weeks until I’m done with my final!