Cherry Blossom Candy Leaf

Today I was blow drying my hair and contemplating how long it has gotten. I can't decide whether to keep it or not. Ben likes it long, which he mentioned about 9 years into our relationship with most of it spent with me and short hair. I like it short because it takes less time to dry so then I can sleep in 15 minutes longer on weekdays when I have to work. My hair also gets really dry and brittle and because I have so much of it, my head is all hair. There isn't a way to thin it out and when Jenn, my hairdresser, tries to, it looks good for about a month and then the shorter layers are made up of split ends. And it is impossible (not an exaggeration) for me to blow dry it and style it the same way she does in even twice as much time. So on Wednesday I am scheduled to have my hair cut and I don't know what I will do. And the only reason I'm thinking about it is because I don't want to feel the need to go back in 2 weeks to do the opposite and spend twice as much money. Despite what it sounds like, I don't really think about it too much, but it's an introduction to the story I am about to tell.

As I was drying my hair getting ready for another night of holiday shopping with Ben, (who always seems to have a headache, sore feet, and a need for food when he has bought everything he has needed to buy and I'm still looking - a story for another day) I thought about one of the worst haircuts I ever had. I will definitely ask my sister to scan one of the photos that my mom has displayed above the staircase so I can post it here.

The worst haircut I ever had happened to me when I was in 2nd or 3rd grade. My sister and I were facing our first and only bout with lice. My mom was so humiliated when she found the creatures. She thought people would think we were dirty. Anybody who works with kids knows that lice spread like wildfire. Once one person has them, the whole class gets them, and then the principal has to send out warning letters because now the entire school is at risk for getting the tiny bastards. Despite this ease of transfer from one person to the next, the "dirty" stigma still exists today. Even for me, I'm afraid. Anyways, back to the haircut.

Our parents decided that my sister and I would have to get short haircuts to avoid lice forever. These were not cute stylish cuts, but the kind you get when using a flow-bee. Every hair on our heads was the same length. As if this wasn't bad enough, I decided that I would add a touch of style to my cut by requesting a tail. For those of you who don't know, a tail is a section of hair on the lower back portion of your head that is longer than the rest. Some people even braid their tails. They were popular for boys in the 80's. And from that day on, my sister and I were referred to as boys. Although we looked the same from the front, I had a party in the back that Gabby did not have. We still talk about it and laugh and laugh. Every once in a while, Gabby will ask me, "Remember when you had a tail?" Yes, I do, with laughter and embarrassment.