"Haircut Free"

     So why do I have my hairdresser's telephone number programmed in my phone when I cut my hair every eighteen months? 

      The following event was not my original intent, but a result of the past "haircut free" year and a half:

     I am suffering from a new kind of separation anxiety.  I am missing my long hair.  I recently had this brainstorm that compelled me to cut my nearly waist long hair and donate it.  I love(d) my long hair.  I have worn it long for the better part of the last twenty years. (I'm a bit backwards, folks.  I sported short hair in my youth and decided to grow it long when I was in my forties!) 

     Before leaving for my appointment, I held onto my long curly locks and bid them farewell.  Shortly thereafter, my hairdresser asked me, as she held my still attached ten inch braid in her hands, scissors perched, was I sure.  My hands were shaking, and my lips trembled.  Unable to speak, I solemnly shook my head yes. In one felt swoop, off it came.   My sorrow subsequently turned to joy, however, as I perused the Locks of Love website, knowing my sacrifice would help a child in need.  

     The next day, when I went to work, many people were shocked.  Some even did double takes when I walked in sporting  hair that barely covered my ears.  One friend indicated that cutting my hair "took ten years off".  "Wow", I replied, "now I look like I'm fifty!"  (I'm not sixty yet folks-just getting myself mentally prepared...)  And don't get me wrong.  I really did appreciate the compliment.

     In all seriousness, this is a great organization.  Please check it out:

http://www.locksoflove.org/