This afternoon, I went and got myself a long-overdue haircut. I say long-overdue because I HATE to get haircuts. I have very curly hair and do not trust it to the hands of a stranger with a scissor.
The last time I went for a cut, in the middle of the summer, she left my bangs way too long and I wound up taking a scissor to them. I cut them too short and have been self-conscious about them ever since.
Every time I see another woman with curly brown hair and a good cut, I think, “I should do that”.
You could say I had to “hit bottom” before finally putting myself in the chair. This morning I woke up too late to do anything worthwhile with my hair before church and just felt miserable every time it fell in my face as I continually bent over to help my toddler behave “properly” (or come close to some semblance of an effort at reasonably good behavior).
Having fed the kids lunch, put the baby in for a nap, and sent the older ones to help their father with yardwork, I saw my opportunity and ran out the door.
I got there at an early-afternoon lull and was fortunate enough to have a hairdresser with the same type of curl as me. “Oh, you have a pretty face,” she told me as she pulled the hair back. I couldn’t see it under all that hair.” As Iris cut away, I could feel the locks fall into proper place under her expert fingers.
She blow-dried it straight to make sure she had the layers all even. She told me about her three children and her second job as a bartender. I could see she was happy that I was happy – so we both parted with smiles.
When I got home, my husband looked at me oddly and said, “What happened?”
“I got a haircut.”
“Oh, it looks really pretty, you never do it that way.”
I wasn’t sure how to take that, but he did mean it as a compliment.
The baby was ready to be taken out of her crib. She looked curiously at my straightened hair and smiled. When we went downstairs, my six-year-old son was coming in the backdoor.
“Mommy!” he exclaimed, “Where did your curls go?!”
“The hairdresser blew them straight. But don’t worry, they will come back after I wash it.”
He ran out the backdoor.
I was amazed at this reaction by my son. I never think that he cares what I look like, but it seems my curls were part of my mommy identity and he was seeing me in a different way.
Within seconds, my other two daughters were running inside.
“What happened? We heard you got a haircut and it looks really good!”
“Ohhhhh, it’s interesting,” they said, circling around me.
About a year ago, I cut off ten inches and it took hours for anyone to notice. It was really amusing to be the center of attention for a change in hairstyle. I just wonder if they will like my curls when they spring back – which everyone with curly hair knows they do!
“Even all the hairs of your head are counted.”
Matthew 10:30
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