Well, hairy for me, hairy for my hair designer, and a little hairy for the floor. Heh.

Ooops, looks like my hair fell off.

Actually, I got my hair cut and I do mean CUT. It wasn’t an accident or anything, I had planned on going shorter. My hair was a little past shoulder length with long layers. This hair designer named Lori works in Fort Worth. She has a lot of high end clients. I used to go see her for years and years until I moved away to Richardson and my second husband would NOT allow me to cut my hair. Not even an INCH. Yes, I know, I actually COULD have. Physically, he would have not stopped me, but the fallout would have been enormous and not something I wanted to bear, considering his normal day to day tirades were staggering. Why provoke him more? It just wasn’t worth it. So, I wore my long hair and kept the peace. I missed Lori and our gossip hair sessions.

Luckily, we stayed in touch. She would still call me to book her airline tickets. She is not computer friendly and has the least idea of how to do it herself. I am happy to do it for her. She is like family to me. So, after two airline tickets this year, she insists on granting me a FREE cut. She knows I have a friend at Church who does my hair, but was VERY insistent that she HAD to pay me back. I finally relented. You can’t beat FREE.

Now, I am blessed with thick, slightly wavy hair. Not cutting it for years, while married to my second husband, made for a HEAVY curtain of hair. I have to tell you, a few months after I moved out, I CUT it off and it was very freeing. I still wonder why I didn’t cut it off the DAY after I moved out. All I can say is, the day I did, was a HUGE step in healing.

Since then, I am positive that HAIR and HIDING are tied. The more hair you hide under, the less in touch you are with yourself, and who you are. Honestly, the most confident , self-sufficent women I know have short hair. I mean REAL confidence not the for show stuff. Of course, there are exceptions, there are always exceptions. I absolutely planned on growing out my hair. Long hair is very beautiful. Jason said he likes it longer and I really wanted to but (sorry hun), I just couldn’t do it. *too frickin’ heavy*

It’s so short and sassy now. I can barely make a pony tail. My hair drying naturally is VERY wavy. The soft curls, not the hard spirals. I even have some bangs. It was a big change. It got me to thinking about changing and chances. How often do we take them? How often do we let them slip by? If we do take them, how does it pan out?

I’ve always been a chancer and change taker. Oh sure, it’s more comfortable to stick with what you know, but you don’t really LIVE until you just get out there and try. Once you conquer, it’s the BEST feeling in the world.

What is that adage “Do something that scares you every day“? That’s a real good one.

This is the ONE thing that scares me.

I don’t know if you’ve ever rode The Superman at Six Flags, but it’s a killer. Especially when you discover, in your late thirties, that you are not too hip about heights any longer. This ride LAUNCHES you at high speed toward the top, then it bobs you up and down like a cork (and at Universal Studios Dr. Death ride you would be done), not so on The Superman, the ride then slowly inches you higher and higher while you are trying not to think about plunging to your death, many , many stories below. breathe just breathe

At last, you are at the very tippy top of the tower of DEATH (freakin’ out) and BOOM down you go in a free fall. *aaahhhhh* I gotta tell you, it’s not my favorite ride. I hate it. Why? It scares me. *crapless* But it’s good for me to be uncomfortable. See? I didn’t DIE. I’m right here blogging about it. I rode it with Sydney the week before school started when we took off for Six Flags for the day. But guess what? I loved conquering that ride. What a rush.

So, today, I took a chance and chopped my hair off. It was scary but I’m glad I did it. It grows, just like we do, as we take chances in life. What have you got to lose, right? Go ahead take a chance and see what happens. I triple dog dare ya!