Back as a freshman in high school I conspired with Myra, my mom’s hairdresser, and mine too, by default, to let my hair grow.  Every time my mom took me to get a haircut, I just got a short trim.  I fooled her!  (Gee, when you’re 14 you think your mom doesn’t notice something when she chooses not to make it a battle.)  By the time I was a junior, I had long hair.  My grandma liked it.  My great-aunt made me giant bows for the back of my head.  Not quite those Russian-gymnast bows, but close. My mother put up with it, reminding me less than once a day that the curl would come back if my hair weren’t so heavy.

In college I made two important discoveries.  The first, and most important, was that you could wash your hair in the shower instead of in the sink and it was a lot easier!  Okay, I was a slow learner.  The second was that I read somewhere that men liked long hair.  Since I got a boyfriend that year, I think I figured it was the hair.

Well fast forward 40 or so years.  Married the boyfriend, had three kids, learned to love to teach middle school, and my long hair down to the middle of my back was still there.  I’d trimmed it several times to just above my shoulders,  but it was no longer chestnut brown with reddish highlights.  More like dirty gray with white highlights.  It used to be so thick I had to buy the special clips and rubber bands.  Now a regular clip held it and sometimes slipped out. Early this summer I went for my yearly trim and suddenly told the girl to ‘chop it all off.

I have short hair!  No, the care is no different.  Wash, let dry, detangle.  Well, the detangle part doesn’t take as long.  It dries more quickly, but I have to scrunch some product in to keep the curl, so as far as care goes,  it’s a wash. As for my two important discoveries?  I still wash it in the shower, but have to clean the drain less often.  And my husband?  He still likes me.  I guess it wasn’t the hair after all.

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