I have long hair. I haven't had short hair since a misplaced comment resulted in an around-the-ears bob. What I said was that I had three kids, a job, and lots and lots of hair that I wanted to make look professional and stunning in under 10 minutes. What I meant was she should immediately hand over the bottle of whatever it is they use on hair models that causes eye-gouging shine and slow motion special fingers-through-the tresses effects. What she heard was 'please cut off all my hair and make me look like a Mom.' So I have long hair.
It's longer than it's ever been at the moment actually. When Kirk went missing I had one of those irrational impulses - I won't cut my hair until he's back. I knew it wasn't reasonable though. Growing hair isn't going to make things happen; his fate wasn't tied up with my follicles or anything. So I have cut it a few times. It's just that between time and resources I usually forget, so now it's past-the-bra-strap long.
Not a problem really except I live in a desert. Every summer I realize I've chosen to wrap my head, neck and half my back with an amazingly effective thermal insulator. As the temperature inches up the 90's I always think - briefly - about chopping it all off. Shorter than short - high-and-tight maybe. Throw a pink bow in there somewhere and it's still feminine, right? Then I take another look at my family heritage of distinctive bone structure and think... where's that hair clip?
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