Hair, Glorious Hair

     My niece, Tia, lives in town and goes to SUU along with her sister, Trisa.  Since Tia works at Smart Style in Wal-mart, I decided that I needed a haircut.  I was going to wait until my hair was long enough to donate to Locks of Love, but then I took a closer look at it.  Nobody will want damaged, dry, and broken hair.  I thought it was healthy, until then.  Oh, well.  Snip, snip, snip and my hair was in a huge pile on the floor.  As soon as I stood up a waiting customer told me the cut looked great.  I came home and my kids said it looked weird.   Too bad for my kids, I like it.  I slept all of last night without being irritated by my hair.  I have forgotten how much I like short hair for myself.  I don't care if long hair is all the rage now, or if I look better with long tresses blowing in the wind.  I can't be bothered.  I realized that having long hair made my life about my hair.  No thanks for me.  As beautiful as it was, I couldn't deal with it anymore.  Compliments about the fancy way I did my hair for church felt nice, but I'd rather have compliments about my behavior.  I was born with my hair; I was born with my face.  I was not born with my actions, my hopes and dreams, my character.  Those are the things that make me me.  The other stuff is just the packaging.  Nobody ever received a present and didn't open it because the wrapping paper was better than any gift they could receive.  People want what is inside the box.
     So I have short hair.  Thanks, Tia, you did a great job.  I love it and my kids will just have to learn that hair grows.  I think it creates the illusion that I am thinner.  I could use all the help I can get in that area.  As soon as the emotional aspect of my fitness is resolved, I won't need a hair cut to slim me.  For now, I am happy about it and my previous statement in an earlier post about liking my hair long is no longer true.