My husband and I each cut 10 inches of hair off our heads. And we still have what most of mainstream society would call long hair. So, how do we feel about being shorn?
In a word? Lighter.
Last night, we shuffled off our two older children onto a friend (thanks, Jessica!) so that we could get haircuts and a few hours without having to juggle ALL of our children. Allen and I made it to Salon Cu in Ball Square, Somerville, right on time for our appointment. We were blessed last minute by a visit from our friend, Erica, who helped watch the baby, take photos, and cheered us on.
It took about 5 minutes for my stylist, Jackie, to brush out my hip-length hair, mark the length to cut, braid the hair below the mark, and cut. Five minutes to cut off hair that I’d been ignoring and half-assedly grooming for years. I immediately felt as though a headache that had been nagging me for years was suddenly lifted.
Jackie placed the braid on the shelf in front of me and proceeded to cut and style my hair, cutting in long layers. It’s now a little longer than shoulder-length, lying just above my bra-strap. She then spent about 30 minutes drying and shaping my hair with a round brush while I tried not to giggle with all the attention my much neglected hair was getting. It’s not like it will ever look this good ever again. I own a hairdryer for one reason: to blow up air mattresses.
Allen has had thinning hair on top for a few years now, and he’s been struggling with the idea of cutting his hair ALL OFF and going with the bald look. I’ve been lobbying on behalf of his hair for years. Because I love his long hair. He decided to listen to the stylist’s advice to go shorter and cut layers in. Thank the gods.
His hair is now above his shoulders, and it’s taken a lot of weight off his scalp. I was afraid it would end up being a page boy kind of cut, and he’d have to get a nose piercing and a facial tattoo to keep his weirdo cred, but he’s looking good. He’s still rocking the tall, long-haired hippie freak/geek vibe.
We both endured the coiffing that comes at the end of a haircut from a real salon, trying to be patient while our awesome stylists played with our hair and made it do gorgeous things like be flippy and light as air and move in ways not natural to our hair. It’s fun to be pampered. And there was one very not happy Rockstar, wailing in the background as my stylist was finishing up. He caught a glimpse of me and remembered that he hadn’t eaten in hours. So, I flipped my hair around a bit, rescued the sad boy from the very tired arms of the ever-patient Erica, and nursed him in the lobby while we waited for Allen.
All in all, we lost 20 inches of hair between us. We feel lighter and slightly more contemporary. To celebrate, we brought Erica along and had dinner at The Boston Burger Company in Davis Square, where we sat at the table by the front window, flipping our hair around like divas and grinning like idiots.
Allen has showered this morning, and his hair is looking much more normal, with some natural curl and messiness instead of the coiffed look of last night. He looks much more like himself. I like the messy look. As for me, well, I think I’ll go with the styled look for at least one more day. My hair feels like silk! And I want to flip it around some more and play the role of a more put-together woman.
Tomorrow, I’ll go back to the regular, messy-haired me!