My Hair

I am looking forward to growing my hair out again and living until I decide I have
 lived long enough to want to do it again.

For those of you who have known me for a while, you know that my hair is my life line. When I was 18 years old I took a file clerk job with Tacoma General Hospital. I was relegated to the basement for 8 hours a day and filed back thousands of medical charts over my two year term. 6 months prior I had decided to cut my locks of beautiful blonde hair.

It was my first such adventure and it was thrilling. Staring at myself now however in the basement restroom of the hospital, I wondered if it would ever grow out again. My mortality was on the line. I honestly did not believe I would live long enough to see my beautiful hair again.

It has been 16 years since then and I count myself lucky to have witnessed my hair grow out again (at least on 7 separate occasions). Once I decide that my hair (and me) have lived long enough, I cut it and decide that I want to live until I can grow it out again.

Strange, I know. A small idiosyncrasy. Don't read too much into it.

This last episode was different though. I had been growing my hair since my not-so-little bundle of joy had been born. 2 years later it was down the middle of my back. I loved it. I curled it. I ponied it. I colored it dark. I was proud of it.  I would of course cut it in small amounts; keep it healthy, sometimes up to my shoulders but then fast back down my back it would grow. I never wanted it short again.

I wondered about this the other night. I wondered why I doubted my life line.

Did I seriously think I would not make it through again? Silly thoughts. I became too comfortable, too prideful with my hair (and my life). The next day while my baby was sleeping I picked up a pair of scissors and cut it off. I did it quick, without allowing myself to think.

I am looking forward to growing my hair out again and living until I decide I have lived long enough to want to do it again.