She Doesn't Have My Hair Issues... Thankfully!

When I was a kid, we had a family hairdresser who was a good friend of my mom's but she completely ruined my hair. I'm sure she was a lovely person, but honestly, a terrible hairdresser. When I was about 13, my mom sent me to her to have my hair cut. I asked her for a shoulder length bob, and she cut my hair about 2 inches long all over. (She had no mirror and I couldn't tell what she was doing until it was too late.) I was devastated!

I'd had long hair all of my life:

and in one fell swoop it was GONE.

This picture is the half grown out/mullet that was the aftermath of the original cut.

(Me at 14 - already 5'9" and about 120 lbs - and with braces, no less. I could only wear "student fit" Levis in a 27" waist - can you even stand it?)

But that haircut actually did give me Post Traumatic Haircut Sydrome - PTHS - and I've had hair issues ever since. I then spent pretty much all of the 80s trying to grow my hair back out again. It didn't help that the 80s were a time of tight perms, Sun-in, and extreme blow drying. My hair is super-fine and always broke off before it could grow until I learned how to quit destroying it in about 1988.

When I got married, my hair was almost to my waist and I've had various versions of long hair for about 20 years now. There are times when I want to cut it, but even though I've finally quit having nightmares about my hair being cut off against my will, I can't quite bring myself to do it. Pathetic, I know, but there you have it.

My girl, on the other hand, is completely hair issue-less. I've never shared my own hair related fears with her, she has no idea I have hair trauma because I don't want to pass any of my own psychosis on to her.

She grows her hair out for a while and then, on a whim, has me chop it all off - last week it looked like this:

(The Daddy Daughter Dance - more on this later.)

... and as of yesterday, it looks like this:



When she comes and tells me, with no warning, that she wants her hair cut off, I brace myself and refuse to cringe and let my own hair-related mental illness rear it's ugly head. I just say, "You sure? Okay!" and go to cuttin'.

And when her daddy, who really prefers long hair on his women, (even though he would never say so to her) asks me why I agreed to cut it off, I tell him that I think it's very healthy that she's not emotionally attached to her hair.

Thank GOODNESS!

And you gotta admit, she looks adorable.