Wednesday, February 27, 2008

The bob of the devil; or, the bob of my youth

Re: The Last Post: I got over it by the next day. Just hormones.

So, I got my hair cut this morning by a lady named Paula. She's a friend of my mother-in-law. She does haircuts for relatively cheap. I've been sick of my hair lately. So, my mother-in-law took me out and treated me to a haircut.

Important notes: My mother also has a friend named Paula, who cuts hair in Utah, for relatively cheap. She cut my hair between the ages of approximately eleven and eighteen. I never really had firm desires about what I wanted my hair to be, so she always gave me approximately the same haircut, because she and my mother both thought it would just be oh-so-cute on me. The haircut is a bob. Chin-length. Pretty much no layers because, me, I don't do that hairstyling thing, and for some reason most people seem to think that that means that I have no chance of pulling off a layered haircut. Once I was about seventeen or eighteen I decided that I really didn't like the bob, and was sick and tired of it, and I grew my hair out. I let it grow, and grow, and grow, and grow for the next several years, and never went to get it cut or trimmed or anything really. And I met Dusey, and I had long, long straight blonde hair (it wasn't *that* long really, but it did go a good ways down my back, though not halfway or anything close to that long). And he liked my hair. And after somewhere between two and three years of no haircuts of any sort, I got sick of my hair again. So, about two days before Dusey left on his mission, I went and got it all chopped off, very short, kind of Meg Ryan-ish when she had very short hair. And I loved it. I've let it grow out, and then have gone and gotten it chopped off all short again, fairly regularly since then. I've had a variety of different hairstyles. But I have never gone back to the bob.

Today, I once again didn't have anything specific in mind about what I wanted. I almost never do when I go to get my hair cut. So we went to see Paula, and she started talking about this bob that would be just so cute on me, absolutely adorable, and would be the perfect thing for wash-and-wear hair. And I was dubious, because it sounded suspiciously similar to the bob of my youth. But then she showed me some pictures in some magazines of some girls whose hair was cute and rockin' and looked really good (though it kind of looked like they had some layering, but Paula said no, no layering other than a tiny bit for some movement, because layering requires styling and I'd told her I don't do styling). So, I let her do what she wanted. And lo and behold, this new Paula, in this new state, who to the best of my knowledge has never met the other Paula, cut my hair, and I ended up with almost exactly the same bob that I had for those seven or so years of my life before. The bob I swore I'd never get again. Except a little shorter in the back, and with no bangs. And I didn't have time to sit and ponder the cut for long while we were there, my mother-in-law had somewhere to be, and it always takes me awhile to contemplate a new haircut. So we thanked her, and paid her, and left.

Dusey never saw me with the bob cut when I was younger. He says it looks cute.

My mother-in-law says it's adorable.

But I'm looking at it now, and it reminds me of that haircut that I had for such a long time. And it reminds me of being twelve and thinking my hair was cute. And then being seventeen with the same haircut still and being sick of it and realizing that it made me look quite a bit younger than I was. And of getting ready to go to the Prom and not being able to do the classic upstyle fancy-dance hairstyle that all the girls did, and being so sad about my hair that night, even though my sister did her best to do something cute with it, and my date said it looked nice. And I remember my vow to never return to the land of the chin-length bob, and I look at my hair with its new chin-length bob, and with all these memories from when I was younger and had about this same haircut, it makes me want to cry. And for today, I don't like it, and maybe tomorrow or the day after I'll get over it and I'll realize it is a cute cut and stuff. It generally takes me several days of any new haircut before I like it at all. But for today, I think I am going to indulge myself and fantasize about going and getting something truly wild and crazy and different and fun and funky and cute done to it after my child is born.

Update on The Pregnancy: I think I've felt a couple of Braxton-Hicks contractions. They're weird. All tight and hard and full of pressure, like the baby turned into a giant balloon inside my belly, but no pain, like what apparently comes with actual labor contractions.

Update on life in general: Looking at houses and thinking about having our own is fun. I am thinking maybe we should just rent one though. Also, I need to get a library card. Also, I'm going to my first-ever Pampered Chef party tomorrow. Also, I will probably post soon about Easter.

2 comments:

Flaw said...

The great thing about hair is that it grows... I hope you feel better before you have to wait that long though :) Personally I tried the whole beard thing for a while, only to find out that it grows in as a bright red and looks very silly.

I still remember the shock when you cut off your long hair, heh. And actually the other day I think i figured out why I like long hair so much. My maternal grandmother had very very long hair. She was very elegant and graceful, and I think it made a big impression on me. I don't remember her as well as I'd like - she died when I was fairly young, and had lost a lot of her hair to chemotherapy later in life. I should find a good photo sometime and share it.

Anyway, good luck with everything! As they say, your problems are hair today, gone tomorrow!

Ted Lee said...

I have no image of you except for the hair cut that shocked Flaw.

Go figure. :p

I'm sure your hair looks nice. I myself can never really get a good hair cut because my hair is more unruly than a group of five year olds who just had lattes.