Saturday, February 19, 2011

Say Goodbye...

The date has been set.

It's all over.

I always knew it would end this way. Part of me didn't want it to, but I know it's for the best. We've had a good long time together. Now it's time for us to move on to something new and fresh.

NOW--grab a scrap piece of paper and scribble down what you think I'm talking about. And hold onto it--I want to know what you were thinking. And no cheating, Rachael. I know you already know.

If you guessed "she's cutting her hair," you answered right!

I've had enough. It now takes 45 minutes for me to get my hair dry with the hairdryer, and that's 45 minutes longer than I want it to take. And that doesn't count the time it takes to actually style it after it's dry. More often than not, my hair ends up in a truly pathetic semi-bun that permits me to spend the day bent over bookshelves and still able to see. I can't wear it in a ponytail anymore, because it won't stay in--the weight of my hair pulls the ponytail holder looser and looser until--BAM--no ponytail.

On top of all that, it HURTS. I was warned when I started growing it out that my hair is very, very thick. It might not look thick (my hair is very fine), but it is, thick enough that I can't use any slides in it (that's barrettes for people not raised to speak British English) or bobby pins or those fancy new bun-pin things that are spirals.

Despite the weight of my hair and my utter lack of styling skills, I would be tempted to keep my hair if it weren't for my allergies. This is where Jennifer will think I'm lying. But the rest of you know, it's TRUE.

I am allergic to my own hair.

It doesn't matter if I change shampoos and conditioners. I've used every hypoallergenic shampoo I could get my hands on. No change. Ever since I was a little girl, cutting my hair meant that I'd have to rush back home to take a bath, because the little bits of hair resulting from the trim were touching my skin, pricking it, and giving me hives everywhere. Any place that's pricked by my hair gets a hive. Sometimes, more than one.

My cousin is the same way. So is my brother. We are allergic to our hair.

Jennifer thinks this is not possible. But it IS. No, I don't think I'm allergic to having hair, but to use an example to argue my point: I am also not allergic to cats. But, if for whatever reason, my skin is broken and I come into contact with something cat-related (like if my cat decides to punish me for not feeding her at 3:00 a.m. by scratching me), I get hives wherever my skin is broken. So, cut plus hives. And you can't put antihistamine ointment on it, because that stuff can't go on broken skin.

I think that I have the same problem with my hair. It pricks my skin, I get a hive. And since I'm riddled with allergies, if I get enough hives, I get them everywhere, even if the allergen (my hair) hasn't touched, say, my elbow.

Thursday at work, I started to feel hot and feverish. But I kept going through The Lists, because why not? Then Sarah from Upstairs came Downstairs and said, "Gosh, Laura! Your poor skin!" Only then did I look at the skin and find that it was beet red and covered in hives. Stupidly, I didn't stop for Benadryl on the way home, so I ended up having an asthma attack. Plus hives EVERYWHERE.

It wasn't the best night for me.

I've made an appointment with Beth from Loose Ends (that's our knit night). Beth is very good. She is a genius of hair*. And SHE believes me, Jennifer.

The hair is going.

I have no idea what I want to have done with it. I am so hopeless with hair. As far as I know, there are only two ways to do my hair. Up (ponytail, maybe ugly semi-bun thing) or down (straight, nothing fancy). If there is another way to style it, I have no idea.

Do YOU have any haircut ideas for me? Let me know in the comments! I am very open to suggestions.

*There are all kinds of different sorts of genius, and you can be more than one kind of genius at a time. What kind of genius are you? Think about what you do best. I am a genius of useless information.

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