Thursday, March 28, 2013

Resting My Crown

I have finally given in to the horrible and life-saving medicine I am on. I cut my hair - or what was left of it. I just went into the bathroom and scissored everything more than a quarter-inch from the scalp.

While the Bible speaks of a woman's "long" (or un-cut) hair as being her glory, I still have the "crown" of gray. And, boy oh boy, is it gray!

My hair doesn't have just a tint of gray. It's not "streaked"or finely lined with gray. My hair is Crayola-grey gray. Steel-gray. It's way more "salt" than pepper at this point. Who the heck knew? I've been dyeing it for so long that I thought L'Oreal's Mahogany 5.5 was my natural color.

I'm not one to obsessed with long hair. Or bone-straight hair. Or any hair that's not natural-looking to my race and skin color. I would Taylor-Swiftly never-ever-ever-ever dye my hair blonde or blue or  - well, you get it. (Not that there aren't some women that can pull that blondie look off no matter what their skin tone, bless them.)

While I would love to say that I am not that vain, I'm not going to lie right now and say that I haven't been thinking of going out and grabbing some dye. Matter of fact, that's the first item on my weekend "Do List." Right up there above "Pick up that fucking Methotrexate re-fill." (Yes, I cussed. Sorry, but that's exactly what's on my list.)

It's at times like this that I know I am blessed with amazing family and friends. They are either amazingly wonderful or amazingly good liars.

"Oh, shi-damn!" is what my roommate just about screamed when I showed her my newly shorn head. She was blinking really fast. "That is a gorgeous look for you."

Riiiight.... There was just a little too much scream in the first part of her reaction. (She admitted that she was shocked I'd cut it all off.)

My oldest brother is the one of my siblings I want to hide away when I introduce men to the family. He's blunt and kind of cruel in his honesty. His response: "At least you're not fat now. A couple of months ago, that cut would of made you look like a balloon."

Well, damn.

My nephew was super-sweet. "Not many women can rock it like that, Auntie." (He did give me the name of his barber so I can get it evened out and "edged up.")

Bless him and the birthday gift I'll be giving him this year...

I guess it only really matters what I think. I like it. It feels very free-ing. This is probably the first time I have done something without worrying so much (beforehand) what anyone else thinks. Once I get it touched up by the barber and get it dyed, I will put up a picture. It's time to change that one on the sidebar anyway.