Summer’s coming, complete with heat and lots of humidity. I know it’s only spring, but it always seems like summer has arrived before spring has even finished. It’s because of those really warm days, which we haven’t quite adjusted to, yet. And, of course, with the heat comes the reminder of certain things… like how much I hate my hair, right now.
Ok, I don’t always hate my hair, but I’m in that horrible in-between stage where it isn’t short enough to get off my neck, but it isn’t long enough to get it up and out of my way. And I overheat very easily, which is why I almost always have my hair up, when it’s long (Only exceptions are for Sundays and self-portraits.). So, why can’t it just hurry up and grow? I watch all these college girls come through with their long hair and if wishful thinking actually worked, mine would be right there, immediately. But in the same breath, I wonder how they can run around in any kind of heat while wearing their hair down.
Remember what the gingerbread man said? Not the Shrek one, the original one from the fairy tales. “Can’t catch me! Can’t catch me!”, he shouted, in an obnoxiously gleeful voice. My hair does that, except it’s “Can’t control me! Ha ha!”. I think I would’ve wanted to strangle the gingerbread man, not eat him.
I thought I’d take a short walk down memory lane, remembering the length my hair can get to, and then just try to be patient for a bit longer. My hair wasn’t that long, when I went to Australia, so I have no regrets over cutting it when I was there. The heat and humidity, with no air conditioning, was leaving me with wet hair from morning til night, so I cut my hair to save my sanity.
Of course, the joys of short hair include the fright you get, when you look in the mirror, first thing in the morning. Which just ends up getting on my nerves, all over again, because some days, I think I need glue to get it under control. But since I’m low-maintenance (no, I don’t own a curling iron, flat-iron, or hair dryer), I just use lots of water.But as always, I wish my hair could be like that doll I had, when I was little. You know, the one where you twisted the butterfly on the side of her head, and her hair would grow long. Up until I broke her, by braiding her hair, and trying to wind it back into her head. Oops.
These pictures were taken when I was living in Pennsylvania, in 2008. I had lived there for two years, by then, and I was quite proficient with using hair sticks, pencils, or chopstick to put my hair up with. I’ve had shop owners tell me that they’ve never seen anyone else use hair sticks, so they never sell them. : ) One picture (black shirt) is taken with some of my summer staff girls during a summer conference. The other picture was taken at Seabrook Island (also at a conference), with some of my friends.
I’m sorry, I felt like getting that gripe out of my system. Patience, Rach, patience. Now, I’m going to go find some weights to attach to my hair, in order to encourage it to grow some more. So it’ll look like this again.