My Valentine

Saturday was Valentine's Day, and I didn't get roses or chocolates or diamond earrings. What I did get was a husband who took me to the urgent care center while I hacked and wheezed. Not once did he whine or complain about the long wait, the fact that I didn't give in to his early morning suggestion that I see a doctor until lunchtime, or the fact that the pharmacist took a long time to get my drugs together. Personally, I'm not sure I could have been as patient about the lack of food for so long had I been in his shoes. I would have meant to be patient, but I probably would have whined anyway. Then he brought me home and waited on me hand and foot while I laid on the couch, sleeping and reading Steven King*. He brought me glass after glass of water, and even went to the store to buy orange juice and salt and vinegar potato chips.** And not once did he act like I was being a pain-in-the-Ay-double-Ess.***

Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetie. You're what it's all about.


*I don't know what it is about being sick that makes me want to read his books, but I worked my way through The Shining, The Stand, and The Dead Zone.

**Another thing that I can't get enough of when I'm sick.

***Which I probably was, even if I didn't mean to be.

Playing My Part

*Blows dust off blog*

So anyway, living up to the stereotype of the married woman, since getting married, I have gained weight and cut my hair from pretty long to pretty short.

In fairness* to me, my hair has mostly been short-ish as an adult. It was down to the bottom of my ribcage as a college freshman and I cut it progressively shorter over the years, occasionally growing it out a few inches, then cutting it again. It was really only once I got ready to start law school that I started really growing it out. I had as a goal the ability to be able to pull my hair into a ponytail and leave for class with no further ado**. Then, when I got engaged to Ash, I started to seriously work at growing it long so that I would have as many options as possible for an updo on my wedding day.

I was good and sick of the long hair by July. In fact, there were many days when I was certain that I would not make it another week without begging my hair guy for an emergency hairectomy. I played with braids and twists, but the thing is, my hair is extremely thick. And as soon as it gets long enough to do something with it, it also gets too heavy to really do anything with it. A true coiffure conundrum. Anyway, I realized shortly before the wedding that I probably had nearly enough length to donate my hair to Locks of Love or some similar charity.

I know, I know: lots of people think that Locks of Love is a scam. I think that's not the case. They are really quite open about what they really do with the donations they receive and the very restrictive guidelines they have for who can get a wig. Now, it's not that I think that kids with Alopecia don't deserve a wig. But there was something about the restrictions that sort of rubbed me the wrong way. Certainly, Locks of Love may set any rules and restrictions it wishes on who may be the beneficiary of their largesse. Still, I wanted something a little more... flexible.

On this past Saturday, I sat in the chair and announced to my hair guy, "I want my short hair back." We looked at some pictures and then he brought out a ruler and a ponytail holder. From the base of the ponytail it measured 9"-- more than enough for Pantene Beautiful Lengths, which I found by a google search for "donate hair not to locks of love". Out came the scissors and several minutes later, off came my ponytail. Honestly, I wanted to run laps around the salon yelling "FREEDOM! FREEDOM!!"

I really thought that it would feel like a big change, but instead it sort of felt like coming home or returning to my natural state. I especially love the fact that from the moment I step out of the shower to the moment of being fully ready to go-- at least as far as the hair goes-- only takes maybe 5 minutes or so, and it looks so much more polished than the long hair did even after a long session with a hair dryer and a round brush (and frankly, that's pretty much always way more effort than I'm willing to put into my hair).

It also made me feel much younger, and perhaps this is a purely psychological phenomenon. After all, I was much younger the last time I had hair like this, so I suppose it's only natural to catch a glimpse of myself in a window or some other reflective surface and think to myself "Hey! Who's that cute little 23 year old?"*** At any rate, it apparently isn't an objective assessment of the effects of my new do, because when I mentioned to Ash that I thought the hair made me look much younger, he replied "I think you look like a mom."****

So yeah. I'm back. 10 pounds heavier and 9" inches of hair lighter. What've you guys been up to while I was busy working, writing thank you notes (if you haven't gotten one for your wedding present yet, I swear they're coming), and playing Katamari Damacy (More on that later, I assure you)?


* The first time I typed this, I wrote "hairness".
** Semi-pun totally intended.
***Which, holy crow, was almost a decade ago. Eek.
**** No, I'm not pregnant.