Hair

Not sure about you, but it’s pretty hard for me to objectively look at myself and say “damn, girl, looking good”.  Well, I don’t talk like that anyway but you get the idea. There’s always something wrong with something, or a bit that could look just a bit better.  Or my classic – “you can’t look your best everyday” white flag.  Used just today!  L-O-N-G week, my friends.  L-O-N-G week.  All this self criticism changes though, when it comes to my hair.

At the risk of sounding completely conceited, I love my hair.  On even my worst day I can always count on my hair for a solid.  To be honest, it’s really not all that special:  it’s brown and medium length and super thick, and, thanks to the power of the CHI that changed my life, straight.  It does have a bit of shine, but it's truly quite plain.  What makes my hair so great and what makes me love it oh so much is that I can always count on it to be exactly all those things all the time.  It’s so consistently brown and straight and thick and shiny that I never have to worry about it.  I get ready in the morning with the precision of a military operation so it’s just a nice relief to not have to stress about this and, trust me, I would stress about it. 

Now, the crazy thing is that I’m actually contemplating throwing all this consistency out the window.  I am contemplating the mother of all hair cuts.  I know.  I don’t know.  I know it’s crazy.  But is it really that crazy?  It’s just hair.  But it's my consistent stress free hair.  I KNOW!  I DON'T KNOW.  I’m almost there, but not quite there. 

Should I cut my hair?