I chanced some change with my hairs. Got 'em all cut off. Each and every one.
I feel like making big changes in this season, a time for new beginnings, even in my grief. Yet I also feel exhausted, like the leaves barely clinging to the branches....ready to fall and wither. I don't want life to just go on. I don't want to do life without Mom here on this earth, breathing the same air as me, watching the leaves turn and fall, bundling up for winter, planning the season's holiday decor.
So I go a hair cut. Big change.
Everyone so far is gaga over it. Telling me how young and cute it is.
I don't know what to think. It's been over a week and I still don't know how to get it to look like the picture up thar (that was the stylist's doing). I feel naked and vulnerable...like people will see my fat now, not my glorious hair. No hiding in the tresses or cute flowers.
Mom would love it. I remember getting my first 'Dorothy Hamill' cut in the '70's and posing out front for Mom's camera. She liked my hair short. I had stick straight pixies in 1st and 2nd grade. Got an asymetrical shaved/swoopy thing in high school. A short mullet. Lots of perms.
Here's how it looked a couple days ago after I attempted to style it:
Not so great. Too structured (Type 4), not enough randomness.
Got a bit closer a this weekend:
I'm definitely not loving the amount of product it takes to do this. I have no choice now except to play around with it and hope I figure it out. Or get used to wearing hats. :)