So I've been planning on doing a blog post about my haircut. I wanted to wait for the new look to kind of settle in my own mind before doing it. But fate and facebook intervened when a photo of me decorating the club Christmas trees showed up on my timeline. So I guess it's time.
In preamble, here are a few facts about me and my hair.
1) I have great hair. Fairly thick, medium wavy.
2) I hate having hair on my neck when I'm hot. I have to put it up.
3) I can not accomplish much of anything when with hair in my eyes and face. It has to be pinned back out of my face for me to get anything done.
4) The result of numbers 2 and 3 is that I wear my hair up about 90% of my life.
5) I just turned 40.
The combined result of these facts is a new do'. About a month ago I took some pictures with me, walked in to Pretty Man Woman salon in the alley and asked Mustafa, who looks like Antonio Banderas Turkish brother, to cut it off. Getting a haircut in Turkey can be somewhat of a claustrophobic experience as there are always at least 2 and sometimes 3 people hovering around you. One to cut, one to brush hair off you, hold the dryer or comb or whatever, and one to sweep up the hair under your feet. I don't enjoy it. But I like the cut. It feels good.
I admit that it doesn't look much like the Sharon Stone pics I brought in but I think that's mostly because with the weight of length off, my hair is curlier.
One of my concerns about cutting it off was how it would look with my roundish face and um. . . thick figure. All plus size models have long hair and bigger gals are advised against having short hair cuts. But I think it looks okay on my body. I am consciously trying to lose my vanity as I get older. And with short hair, I don't look like a model or the heroine or a young sexy babe. But I look like me. And looking like me is okay.
The reactions have been interesting. One of the gals on the street said, "Wow, that must have taken a lot of courage to do that." I took that as a great compliment. Because it did take some courage. My favorite Turkish checker at the commissary winked at me and told me I looked younger. Brannick didn't like it, although he did like the AWFUL highlighting job I had done a week later and then had to get fixed. Geoffrey likes it. I know one of my brothers-in-law will hate it. My sisters will be surprised and then tell me they like it and that it makes me look like our mother. What do you think?