I have the weirdest love/hate relationship with my hair. First off, there is a lot of it. When I was a child, my mom would curse the days when she had to wash and detangle that moss because it would take a couple of hours to get it under control. It was waist-length most of my childhood and teen years and was always a chore to style on a daily basis. Being a short African American little girl with Texas-sized big hair down to the waist gave me a distinct look that I held on to until the end of my senior year of high school. Everyone says they wish they had thick wavy-curly hair, but no one ever tells you the truth about what it honestly takes to achieve a polished look with all the bush. When I got my first significant hair cut, the weight was lifted...literally. I swear I dropped five pounds when that mane was finally chopped off.
Through my early adult years, I kept going shorter and shorter until I rested my style with a low maintenance pixie cut that I held on to, off and on, for a good 10 years. It worked with my active lifestyle of running and marathoning without making me look too matronly. When I decided to grow it out, I followed the trend of many black women and tried a "natural" style for the first year. No relaxers and no straightening. Once it made it to my shoulders, the natural look was more work than I wanted to admit. Of course, I have tried some alternate lengths, allowing it grow out to a bob and to shoulder length most recently. The various looks worked just fine, but the daily styling routine was for the birds. Because my hair is so thick, I resorted to the ever convenient wet ponytail most days after a workout rather than tackle my head with a blow dryer or flat iron. By the way, I always hated wearing a ponytail. What I hated even more was having to spend too much time making my head look presentable.
However, now I have declared a return to all things that worked for me during my early fitness days. I have gone back to my old marathon training routine. I have gone back to the ritual of working out in the evenings and even brought my strength training back into the mix. Going back to my old hair style seemed fitting too. Yesterday I chopped off my bob-length tresses into a more updated pixie. I am not the same twenty-something year old anymore and probably couldn't rock the exact same cut I could years ago, so I opted for a look that would still be professional and much less hassle in the mornings. Luckily my husband has always been a good sport about my bipolar hair issues. When it is cut short, he compliments me. When it is long, he compliments me. If I ever go bald, I believe he would still have a kind word or two. The pictures of the big chop are posted below. The day it stops growing back, I guess I'll have something new to complain about.