On hair...

Ok, I've been saving money and cutting my own hair now for a year and a half. It's gone from shoulder length to chin length to cheek to almost spiky.

Last night I went over the top.

When I first began cutting my hair it was a money saving thing. I was living in Boston and working very hard to save everything I owned towards a great unknown (also I owed several thousand dollars to the IRS). To begin I would drink two glasses of wine and then dive right in. I did a great job. I got lots of compliments. The greatest thing Meg Ryan ever did was to make messy hair super stylish. Messy works for me. I like rolling out of bed, looking at my hair, grunting and then putting on something fashionable and leaving 15 minutes later. Everyone at work simply assumes you're cool and on top of things. There's actually a brand of products called Bed Head- DESIGNED to help your hair look as if you just rolled out of bed!! I don't have to do it on purpose- I just don't bother. Of course I'll texturize my hair (read that: I'll make it look dirty too) with hair wax or styling creams. That's easy enough. Put some stuff on your hands, rub them together and mess up your hair even more...instant fashion statement and you don't even have to wake up for it!

It's amazing.

My hair became shorter and shorter little be little. In Spain somewhere back in February I made the really funky jump in my hairstyle by going a little crazy with the scissors. It was scary at first, but soon I was finding myself cutting my hair not just when it needed it, but when I was bored. If my hair felt a little long I would quietly obsess about it until I was home alone for at least 30 minutes. I didn't even have to drink anymore. To do the back I didn't even look. I just felt it with my hands and cut behind my head. After quite a bit of cutting I'd double check the result and do any cleaning up that was necessary. Still the compliments poured in. I began cutting my friends' hair as well.

Luckily in Spain I was rarely bored. However, there were a couple of nights near the end when I played the recluse and found myself in the bathroom fighting with the scissors and my near desperate need to create with my hair. The unknown was so exciting! One night my friend Sarah did a bit of a intercession- "Willow, put the scissors down, step out of the bathroom. Your hair is lovely and no more needs to come off. You will now proceed to my house where you will drink Sangria until your hair is duly forgotten." Having just rediscovered my childhood cowlick, I agreed that this was best, although I couldn't help one last snip before leaving (it was uneven, I swear).

In New Zealand my hair went from short to very short. Actually, the worst of that was last night. I didn't drink first, I didn't' use the mirror, I was in a dark room and I kept interupting the cut for conversations with my flatmates...needless to say, it was a bad cut. It could have been worse of course, and has been in the past (but only by professionals). Sigh. I think that this is going to take a few weeks to grow out. So sad. So very sad.

If only it wasn't such fun to create with hair or if I had enough other people to satisfy my desire I wouldn't have to keep on my own hair everytime.

Such is the life of an extremist.