Maybe it’s because these are the last days of summer. Maybe it’s because my hair sticks to the perspiration on my back. Maybe it’s because my hair hasn’t been this long since I was twelve years old. And maybe it’s because I just celebrated a birthday, and I’m closer to fifty than I am to forty.
Who the hell knows? But I’m itching to cut my hair.
Frankly, it’s way too long. I thought I’d give it a try, see how long it could go, see how I feel in long hair. The truth is, I’m a short hair girl. I’m pretty sure Dorothy Hamill ruined it for me.
Come on. How cute was her hair during the Olympics? I was a kid and wanted my hair just like hers. So I did it. I cut off all my hair.
When Anthony and I married, months before, I had hair past my shoulders. I went and cut it off short—Princess Diana-like (that cute cut she had right before she died) right before our wedding. It was probably the best haircut I ever had. And actually, my husband loved it.
So now I’m at a crossroads. Do I keep it long, or cut it off? I’m leaning toward Dianna Agron’s cute bob. Choppy, flirty, and fun. And off my neck.
Truthfully, only two people truly know what will happen when I sit in the salon chair next week: Aubrey, my fabulous stylist who is probably going to keel over when I tell her to “cut it,” and me.
I won’t even tell my husband.
Let it be a surprise.