Why I Cut My Hair

On Wednesday morning, I went to my favorite stylist, Brooke at Lyric Salon, and asked her to cut off all my hair. Well, not all my hair, but most of it.

She obliged.

I'd been wanting to cut my hair pretty much since Willow was born. And about a month ago, after Willow weaned, the baby weight that I had been waiting to lose, went. But I still had the hair.

And it was bumming me out.

Actually, I think it was more than the hair that was bumming me out.

It was our house full of stuff we don't use, but that we don't have time to get rid of because even throwing things out takes time and energy that we just don't have.

I couldn’t clean my house, so I cut my hair.

It was the strange new pace of our life as parents -- constant change and movement in so many ways sitting right next to the feeling that personal forward movement is next to impossible t. I rarely have time to take a shower, much less write a song. But I have plans!  I want to do so many BIG things!  But   doing them...again that takes time and energy, and most days I am just trying to hold it together enough to get ready for the next day.

I can’t execute all my big plans, but I could cut my hair.

Plus, I've felt like changed, really truly changed, since becoming a mom. For a long time after I became pregnant with Lisel, and even after I had her, I thought that it was just a matter of time until I got back to my old self. I'd lose my weight, fit back in my clothes, and start going and doing as I had pre-kid. 

And then I realized that was a dream.  The old me wasn’t coming back. And after a while, I  didn’t even long for her. But physically, I still looked like the old me. Long hair. Glasses. Quirky style.

I just didn't feel like her.

And when I lost my baby weight this time, I put on the clothes I had been saving for 3 years, my pre-Lisel clothes, and I felt ill at ease. They weren't my clothes. They were hers. And her style is just not my style.

Not that I'm sure what my style is. I've been throwing out her clothes at a pretty rapid rate, and not replacing them. For the time being, I'm sticking to black. I own some black shirts and black pants and black leggings, and those coupled with dark jeans, a couple of colorful hoodies and a couple of black and white striped dresses are all I want to wear. All I feel comfortable in. Which is strange because black as a fashion choice has always infuriated me. I usually love and need color. But right now, black is working as my transitional wardrobe go to color.

Funnily enough, my father, who I am the spitting image of, also has the same style. He wears Ray Bans, black t-shirts and jeans, and always looks cool.

I guess I am my father’s daughter.

I finally, I wanted to do something I might regret. I hardly ever make decisions these days that might go really, really, awry. I actually had moments of gripping, stomach-clenching panic in the days leading up to the cut..  That used to be an every day feeling, and now it's a novelty.  Luckily though, I don't regret it. On the contrary, every time I look in the mirror my soul does a hop skip and a high five. But I could have regretted it. Which was exciting.

And so ends this long post about my short my.