Thursday, July 19, 2012

Away We Grow

For years I've said that I wish I could donate my hair. "Do it," I was told. My retort was always something to the effect of my hair being too fine to grow out. In kindergarten, on the first day, I was so excited to use scissors for the first time that I cut about four inches from my hair (hey, I looked for paper first). That started a lifetime of short hair for me, as immediately after school I went in to get - and sport - my first mushroom cut. I took a brief hiatus from short  hair when I started growing it out again around age 10. It was a few inches past my shoulders in 5th grade, but from the photos, stringy as all hell.

In 6th grade, I took about six inches off, leaving it above my shoulders. My hair hasn't been below my shoulders since...until now.

A few years back, PE - prior to the whole debacle starting - mentioned that he liked long hair, but I could really pull off short hair (whatever that means). I agree, really. Even though the inverted bob was killed henceforth by a certain Kate, who, even since has ditched for a longer do. When we finally said "okay, lets date for real," I made a deal with him that if he stopped shaving his hair (wayyyy) too short and grow it out, I would grow mine out. And then a weird thing happened: I liked the results. We broke up crashed and burned, but I kept growing my hair out. And it's helped with free drinks; guys seem to be intimidated by girls with short hair. Or maybe they think we're they're gay.

I have always stuck with short hair, some variety of a pixie cut or an inverted bob since high school. In June of 2010 was my last "real" haircut, since then I've been growing it with only maintenance trims for the most part. See below: In order: 2008, Mar 2009 (grown out for my sister's wedding), Fall 2009, Oct 2009, Halloween 2009, Mar 2010, June 2010 (left side), June 2010 (right side), Oct 2010, Mar 2011, June 2011, July 2011, Oct 2011, Apr 2012 (damn right, that's a hobbit hole!), July 2012 and today at work:

If you're paying attention, you saw my old nose. And if you weren't, now you have and welcome back to this paragraph. So for the past few weeks I've been asking myself this question: When you're growing out your hair for no specific reason, how do you know when it's time to stop?  Most people didn't have an answer aside from "keep growing it". But I think, by nature, I'm not a long hair gal and I still cant get used to it touching my back, so growing it and growing it isn't an answer that suits me.

I have, however, found an answer that has; one that I have expressed envy of for years: Donating to Locks of Love. I don't know why this kind of charity is so appealing to me: Maybe because it's so personal: Its a PART of you - like an organ - not money. And the value of how something makes you feel is so much more important than the value of something you can buy.  And so, I have decided that I am going to try my damnest to get this fine, delicate hair to hang on for a year or however long it takes to get ten inches and donate to children in need. Bucket. List. (And I didn't even think to add it because I never thought I could.)  And away we growwwwwwwwwwwwwww...