It's so funny when I first sit down in the stylist's chair and whip out the picture of what I want my hair to look like. They (and there have been many) always give me a very doubtful look, a look that questions whether or not I'm ready for such a drastic change. At first impression it's almost like they don't believe me, that I must be pulling their leg. They treat me like my world is about to end, as if with that first cut I'm going to fall out of my chair and curl up in a fetal position crying like a little girl who just can't grasp the fact that hair really does grow back. At first the stylist will very carefully comb through the hair I have let grow down to my elbows, then she'll cup the first chunk in her hand, and with scissors in position she'll say, "I'm about to make the first cut. There is no turning back now." Snip.
I find this amusing because she doesn't understand that, by this point, I have waited so long for a haircut I so desperately needed I really don't care if she just shaves my head. I want it gone, and I want it gone now. Anyone who knows me knows that I will talk about needing a haircut up to one year before I actually get the guts to go in to a salon and chop it off. And within that year I grow so disgusted with my hair and the monotony of the daily ponytail that I eventually just crack and decide that today will be the day. At that moment I'm able to let go of the warped opinion that I have never been happy with a single cut in my life, and I will bite the bullet.
Today wasn't any different. I woke up thinking that I had to let go of the style that made me look 15 years old again. So I printed a photo from the internet of what I thought might work and marched into the salon. Today's stylist, Emily, looked none to happy when she realized she was stuck with Cousin It, but she quickly put on her most welcoming face and invited me into her chair. And when I pulled out the photo her eyes got really big and she said, "Wow. That's pretty short. Are you ready for this?" I smiled and nodded my head, "Yep." She offered to keep it a little longer than the example to absorb some of the shock, but I thought that if I'm going to do this then I'd better do it right, because who knows when I'll be able to drag myself in for a cut again. Besides, the shorter I go, the longer I have before it reaches this length again.
Overall I'm very happy. I walked in there with hair down to my elbows, and I walked out with hair that rests loosely on my collar bone. I couldn't stop running my fingers through it on the drive home and I'm looking forward to washing it for the first time, experiencing the shock of having nothing there compared to before. Today I walked out of there very pleased and excited as compared to the many times before when I've climbed into the car and asked myself, "What have I done?" Today I walked out of there thinking that Emily was my girl.