When I was a young girl, I wished for long hair. Movie stars had long, luxurious, beautiful hair. Television ads for shampoo featured models with long hair that could obviously be gorgeous just by using the right hair products. Yep. That was for me.
My mother didn't think so.
In her younger years, Mother had a talent for cutting hair. The ladies in our neighborhood didn't go to a beauty shop but came to my mother for their haircuts. So it was natural that she would cut my hair. I think she just didn't have time to mess with a daughters' long, flowing tresses. Once, when I threw a hissy fit about home haircuts, whining that other girls didn't have haircuts given them by their mothers, she loaded me into the car, hauled me to town and I got a haircut. Not at a beauty shop, but at a barber. I came out looking sort of like Alfalfa from the Little Rascals.
I'm not sure I ever forgave her, but I never again complained about a home haircut, and I expect that was the desired result.
Out of habit, I suppose, I have kept my hair fairly short most of my life.
I'm sort of a no-frills kind of gal. When a beautician asks me how I want my hair cut, my reply is usually, "Wash and Wear." I have no patience for fussing in front of a mirror to make sure every hair is in place. So about four years ago I decided to just let my hair grow. It is now about two inches above where my waist used to be. And I now realize that Mom knew what she was talking about.
I know this because nearly every morning I spend time brushing rats nests out of my hair. I should braid it before going to bed at night to prevent this, but I can't seem to get the hang of it.
I know this because if I don't tie my hair up before cooking, I wind up pulling long gray hairs from my food.
I know this because I dragged the ends of my hair through the dishwater today, three times in as many minutes.
And I especially know this because just the other day I had to untangle a cat from these long, flowing tresses. Cat still has claws on all four feet. It was not pretty.
I will wait until spring and then off to the beautician I will go. I will ask for a Wash and Wear style. And I will donate these long, flowing tresses to "Locks of Love," an organization that makes wigs from donated hair for cancer patients .
I wish for many reasons that my mother were still alive. But one of the best reasons is that she would get such a chuckle from hearing me tell her that she was, once again, right.
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