I am unpleasantly awoken by a blaring alarm at 8:30 am telling me it’s time to get my butt up if I plan on making it to Organic Chemistry on time. So naturally, I snooze the alarm for 10 more minutes before even considering crawling out of my comfy warm sanctuary. When I finally do find it in me to stumble out of bed I groggily head to the bathroom, pulling my hair into a top knot on the way. I pause mid-stride as I am momentarily confused as to where half of my hair has gone.
Light brown hair that used to reach my mid back now only falls at roughly my shoulder. Since its early it takes me a second to remember that little over a week ago I hacked it all off. Coming from someone who used to cry when I was forced to trim my ends, this seven inches shorter thing has taken some getting used to. When I finally do reach the bathroom I have roughly ten minutes to be out the door so it’s go time.
After a quick brushing of teeth, it’s time to tackle the monstrosity that is my bed head. Back when I had long hair it was impossible to deal with in the morning. It was a tangled disaster every morning but I wouldn’t even dream of combing it since it would cause the loose waves to frizz and resemble the main of a horse. Since cutting it all off, I no longer have to deal with that frizzy disaster. It does seem though that I have traded one problem for another as now my hair sticks straight up in the morning and refuses to sit down atop my head. Instead it choices to resemble Mount Everest or one of the girls’ hair from Jersey Shore. With a frustrated groan, I run a comb through it and stick it back into a bun before garbing my bag and heading out the door.
It is less than two minutes later when I meet up with a friend to walk to class that she informs me that I missed a huge chunk of hair at the back of my head that is not secured in the top knot. I grumble that I didn’t miss the piece of hair but rather the piece of hair decided that it didn’t want to play nice. I silently curse myself for not taking the time to secure shorter pieces of hair at the back of my head with bobby pins because they’re simply not long enough to stay in an up-do by themselves.
When I finally reach class, I am now faced with the difficult decision between trying to blindly half up half down my hair or throwing it into a low pony and looking like a colonel man. There’s a huge chance I’d have a lumpy half ponytail at best but it’s better than looking like Paul Revere with a tiny low ponytail and shorter wispy pieces of hair framing my face. When I finally am able to reach the bathroom I do my best to deal with the situation but eventually, give up and throw my hair into the classic man bun. At least now I look like a cool hipster teenage boy instead of a revolutionary one.
As I continue my day on campus I am meet with the unavoidable question that has haunted me for the past week without fail. Whenever I run into anyone I do not see on a regular base I am undoubtedly questioned “oh. Did you get a haircut?” I must then attempt to refrain myself from spitting out some bad line about dying my hair invisible. When I respond that “yes, I did, in fact, cut my hair” I am meet with pretty much the same line of “it looks so healthy!” Whether it is good or bad that that is the number one comment I’ve gotten so far is still up for debate.
When I finally do get home and grab the opportunity to shower I am reminded of my hair, or lack thereof, as I make the mistake once again of attempting to use too much conditioner. This new hair to conditioner ratio is the trickiest math problem I’ve done in ages apparently. Once out of the shower I’m reminded of the perks of the new hairstyle as it takes me approximately ten seconds to comb my hair. I am further reminded when my hair is air dried in less than ten minutes. I do run into an issue with the new length however when I look in the mirror and am stricken with how curly my hair is. What was once mild long waves has been replaced by very short and very curly locks.
With the shoulder length brown curly hair, I now sort of resemble those portraits of Jesus. Now I just need the sandals and the robe and the two of us will be identical. When the time comes for me to attempt to style my hair for a night out, all hell breaks loose. I can’t really curl it because my hair won’t keep loose waves but tight curls stick up and make me look like little orphan Annie. Straightening it isn’t much better as it won’t really stay straight for more than ten seconds anyway. When I finally give up and change into clothes that aren’t legging and a T-shirt I can’t help but look into a mirror and think “oh so that’s what my shoulder looks like in this dress.”
