2008-08-15

Say goodbye to my leetle friends...

Couple things that will happen within the next few days that I'm kinda happy about:

I'm seeing my boy Justin on Tuesday to begin a tat overhaul that's been way overdue. No, he's not gonna do anything to Skylab -- that there is sheer perfection. I've got this one on my leg that I've been less-than-happy with for a good stretch, and probably over the course of the last year or so I've been even LESS less-than-happy about it.

Sorry it's not the best quality phew-tew, but you get the general idea here.

My reasons for getting this were well-intended (they always are, aren't they?). I don't necessarily REGRET getting it, but it should be more than what it is, and after a great deal of thought, I'm ready to make that happen. It's not going to be covered up, but it will be radically altered. It's time. I'm excited. But holy crap is it gonna HURT.

And tomorrow I get to see Heidi yayayayay. Because I can't stand my hair anymore and I think I'm going to go a little more drastic with the cut this time. I don't know that we're talking crazy short, but even at chin-length, it's starting to break me.

I have been "blessed" with very thick, very wavy hair. No one else in my family possesses such tresses.

As a child, I wore it long and loose, and because I couldn't bother with brushing it, it hung in snarly, snaky tendrils. In third grade I had it all cut off, and endured funny looks whenever I tried to go to the ladies' room. I also wore it boy-short all through high school and into college.

By my senior year in college, when I was quite convinced that I was going to be an ACTRESS, I'd grown it out once again to shoulder-length (y'know, to accommodate all those period pieces I was bound to take on). I was in a production of Strindberg's "The Stronger" that year, which required a huge, elaborate up-do, orchestrated each night by my roommate (and the "Miss Y" to my "Mrs. X") Suzen, a pageant veteran well-versed in complicated hair. It was from her that I learned the profound wrong-ness of washing one's hair every day, if one has a great deal of it and is going to be wearing it up every night to play a shrill, histrionic actress whose husband may or may not be cheating on her.

At the dress rehearsal, Suzen began the Herculean task of pinning up my hair when she suddenly asked, "Lees, did you wash your hair today?"

"Er...yeah?"

"Well, we're gonna have to spray the hell out of it, because it's looser than a high school cheerleader."

So, really, the only time it looks good (other than when Heidi gets through with it) is when it's dirty. Borderline filthy, really. I've made sure that it's nice and stank for any major events. I am not kidding when I say my hair was oilier than the Exxon Valdez on the morning of my wedding, and it looked TOTALLY AWESOME.

Ha ha ha look at me pretending to be all pensive when I'm really flipping the bird.

A little over a year ago, I had it down past my shoulders again. I went to chin-length last summer, and since discovering the Epic Genius of Heidi, have kept it more or less like this since March:

I'm afraid, though, that even this has become too much. This hair of mine, she is heavy, mama. And it's only that sleek and straight after severe coaxing with the big round brush and the Conair. I don't think I want quite this much hair anymore. I want SOME length, maybe in the front, but the rest of it...I think it's gone by this time tomorrow.

Tune in and see...

lisamcc at 6:13 p.m.

2 comments so far
Tina
2008-08-16 01:45:28
Go for it, love. I remember when I was in high school and your hair was super short, I was thinking, "My Gahd. How can she have her hair so short?!" I finally came to my senses when I moved to Australia and cut all my hair off. I came to the realization that I was never going to have flowing lovely locks, that my forehead was too big and my face too narrow to accomodate long stringy hair. Having short hair is the best thing ever. For me, anyway. And you look pretty hot in short hair, too.
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LisaMcC
2008-08-16 01:57:04
Yeah, every time I grow this shit out I think about how much easier it is when it's short.

Remember, though, when you helped me shave the sides off with Dad's clippers? Ah, the 80's...
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