Partially due to the local weather and partially due to the stressful nature of my career, I have spent the last five years locked in a vicious hair cycle. I cut it off, and immediately decide that I want to grow it out. It grows into that awkward mid-length, and I hack it off in frustration. Two weeks later, I decide that that was a hasty decision and swear that I’m going to grow it out. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Miss M watched this cycle of follicular doom for almost a decade when she finally put her foot down last winter, “Stop cutting your hair, you look like a soccer-Mom who visits Supercuts. (Ouch.) And you would be so friggin hot with long hair.” (That’s her way of saying sorry.)
Thus, I’ve spent the last fifteen-months trying to grow out my hair.
Given the weather conditions in D.C., it has not been easy to resist the overwhelming desire to shave my head and rock the Sinead O’Connor-look. Some days, I wonder if cutting it all off ala Ginnifer Goodwin wouldn’t be the better option, but knowing that Miss M would shoot me on sight has prevented that plan from coming to fruition.
I fantasize daily about to giving up and chopping eight inches off of my hair, only hope (and a hairdresser who refuses to cut it because she knows I will regret it) has stopped me. But after seeing the incredibly sexy and fun hairdo that Glee’s Lea Michele was rocking on the red carpet last night, I am more determined than ever to keep up the good fight.
A shoulder length bob may be easier, but long layers with sultry bangs is better. If only hair grew faster.