When you were a kid did you have an unnatural fascination with scissors? I did. I can remember being really excited to start kindergarten because I was going to have my own pencil box, and inside of it was my very own pair of safety scissors. I loved my scissors – they were pink….or maybe it was red (I’ve slept since then). Man, those were some good days.
Now days, I’m still obsessed with cutting instruments of all kinds. I have multiple pairs of scissors, tons of knives, some garden snips, tree pruners, shrubbery pruners, floral scissors and snips, and several different saws. I don’t know if it’s the destruction aspect of cutting things or the precision aspect, but either way I love it.
Yesterday I decided to do something with scissors that I haven’t done since kindergarten. I gave myself a haircut. Now, I’m not talking about just snipping in some bangs or cutting off a few stray flyaways, I’m talking about split end annihilation. I haven’t had a haircut in about a year and a half – not since we left Maine and my second hairdresser named Heather. And at this point, my hair was quite long – within 4 or 5 inches of my waist – which is really impressive for me since most of my life I’ve been the queen of super short hair. But as impressive as the length was, unfortunately at least 3 inches of length was pretty much dead. I don’t know about your hair, but when mine starts to split and get brittle, the ends turn a light golden brown – making it look like I have a very badly grown out color job.
I’ve been talking about getting my hair cut for months now. Summer is coming and it gets pretty hot and humid in Georgia, and I didn’t really want to mess around with a head full of long, thick, curly, dark hair. I’ve even gone so far as to pick out a new do that I’d like to have. But since I’ve been growing this hair out for a couple of years now, I’ve managed to get pretty attached to it all and the thought of going back to another short hairstyle just seemed to sit cock-eyed in the back of my mind. And besides, I have a thing for hairdressers named Heather – I’ve had two in a row that have been so out of this world fantastic that I feel like it’s a sign from God that only hairdressers named Heather should be allowed near my head with scissors. Since I currently don’t know any hairdressers named Heather I felt I was just S-O-L.
However, yesterday in a moment of clarity, I took a good long look at just how scabby my hair had become. It was long, but not attractive. What to do? What to do? Should I risk another horrible haircut from a non-Heather? Should I just go on and continue to fix my hair as if it were healthy and split-end free? Should I just twist it all up on top of my head and hope I don’t have any lose ends flying about? Naw!
I grabbed my fabric scissors from the closet a few alligator clips and decided that I couldn’t screw it up any worse than a non-Heather could – and if I did, then I’d be forced into finding a beauty shop that specializes in repair work. Besides, it’s just hair….it grows back….eventually. After spending a few minutes figuring out the best way to approach the situation I went for it.
The first cut is the hardest, I can now testify to that. Once you pass that point though the rest comes pretty easily. I’d only hoped to take an inch or two off, but when you’re flipped upside down and all the blood is rushing to your head two inches seems to magically become three or four inches or five inches! I think it’s gravity. Surprisingly though, when it was all said and done it came out pretty well. While it’s all even, it is a bit shorter than I’d originally hoped it’d be; but I got 99% of the split ends and at least my hair is naturally all the same color now.
I refuse to photograph myself – and quite honestly, I didn’t even think to take a picture of the ‘before’ hair, so it seems silly to have a photo of the ‘after’ hair. But here’s a picture of some of the carnage that was left in my sink.