Things I Learned This Weekend

Even a Friday can't help me enjoy snow.
My love/hate affair with snow has been well-documented on this blog. And even though it's been three years since Snowmageddon I and II, I'm still not quite over my hatred of the white stuff. Even when all I have to do in it is make it to the metro, then the mall for a haircut, then back on the metro over the Potomac, then a bus home. Actually, yeah, even that stuff is annoying when there's white and wet stuff everywhere.

There is such a thing as a good haircut.
Another topic I've exhausted on this blog: my hair. But I think I finally found a good hairdresser up here, and it only took me five and a half years. She cleaned up my tragic split ends and then gave me some good face-framing layers. Pieces are still a bit scary short and don't quite stay up in my ponytail, but it's actually a good haircut, which really makes all the difference.

There's nothing like a bunch of pro-life high-schoolers to ruin the taste of Taco Bell.
One of the main reasons I'm able to handle the tourist madness that is Pentagon City Mall is because of the Taco Bell in the food court. On this particular visit there was a large group of Catholic high schoolers in town for the pro-life march held earlier in the day. One boy was quoting Revelations and there was a Father trying to round everyone up for the buses. As I fought the urge to instigate, they got up, leaving some of their trash beyond. Would it have been wrong of me to stand up and tell them what to do with their trash, since I so despise them telling women what to do with their bodies? Or would it have been a public service to remind them to work harder to protect this planet they're trying so hard to populate.

Taking down Christmas decorations makes a room seem very empty/clean.
Finally took down my decorations on Saturday, a week earlier than the end of January but I had the time and got to it. At first the room just felt very empty, now it just feels right.

There's nothing quite like watching a Carolina game with a room full of Tar Heels.
The ladies and I went to this year's new Carolina bar to watch the Carolina v. State game. There was lots of room, drink and food specials, and lots of fellow Tar Heel alums cheering on our (less than stellar) Heels.

Buffalo Billiards has an interesting interpretation of "side order of fries" .
Karey said side order of fries, and she got fries on the side of her chicken fingers. I said side order of fries, and got this massive basket for $6.99 that we ate off of all night, and still never saw the bottom.

If your team can't look good, at least you and your friends can look good.
Not that we looked good, that would be cocky. But compared to the team, we looked like super models. Except for my demon red eyes, which I can't get rid of.

The best way to mourn a bad basketball loss is with Krispy Kreme.
Carolina girls can't turn down the "hot now" sign. Thankfully, Krispy Kreme is always a win.

The coolest bumper sticker ever is in NW DC.
Doctor Who for the win!

Ikea thread is not very good.
Among other sewing problems I had on Sunday, the thread I bought from Ikea kept breaking. Apparently the Swedes don't sew as fast as I do? Or they buy their thread somewhere else, too.

The "Shawshank Redemption" is amazing.
This was the first time I saw this movie and oh my word was it amazing. Now I know why it was one of my Poppy's favorites.

Too much foreshadowing can ruin the moment.
This is in reference to this week's devastating "Downton Abbey" which didn't make me cry once. And I cry at everything. I'm going to blame it on all the dramatic moments that preceded it which made it not a shock to me. But I'm still a bit worried I'm broken.

I am not my hair

Warning: This post is very shallow and dramatic. There are also a lot of pictures of me. But if you make it to the end, it may have some redeeming qualities.

Confession: Sometimes I am really, really vain.

Like, checked myself out in a reflective window and fell down a flight of stairs once, vain. (In my defense, it was at my job in London where I climbed four flights of stairs a hundred times of day. Going more than a week without at least tripping would have been statistically impossible.)

One of the things I am most vain about is my hair. I have four different types of shampoos and conditioners, a conditioning mask, serum, and a nice hair dryer. My cabinet is full of ponytail holders, clips, headbands, barrettes, and spin pins. I brush it constantly and obsess over keeping it shiny and smooth. I just love my hair, particularly when it's long. I swear it makes me bolder and more powerful, truly.

For the past 2.5 years I've been growing my hair out. As you may recall, there was the time I donated 10 inches to Pantene Beautiful Lengths in 2008:

But no stranger to changing my style, there was also the time I did this in 2006:

And most recently, there was just a lot of this:

Now, there is just this:

It's all gone. It's hard to show in the photos but it's short, with the majority of it just above my shoulders. It's just an all around crappy and sloppy cutting job, and if I don't arrange it just right it looks like I have a mullet or a rat tail. (But for fear of losing more length, I don't want to have anyone try to fix it.) Oh, and did I mention the salon charged me an extra $10 because of the length of my hair? Well done, salon, well done.

This wasn't me growing it out specifically to donate. This wasn't because I had graduated college and all my friends were gone and the only thing I could control was my hair. This was me stupidly trusting a cheap hair salon and stylist to understand what I meant by "long layers" and "keep as much of the length as possible." To be fair, I did want more of a shape and I did want it lighter for the summer, but that is not what I had in mind.

To quote our dear president, let me be clear, I know all of this to be true: It's just hair! It will grow back! Some people don't have hair or can't have hair! It's just hair!

But because this is my blog and I'm selfish I'm going to keep writing.

As soon as I walked out of the salon I started panicked breathing. A block later at the grocery store I was crying. I cried some more when I talked to my mom and then when I examined it in the mirror. And then I lost sleep over it. No joke, I lost sleep over a haircut! I am not that woman. (Well, I am that woman who loses sleep over things, just not usually hair. So maybe I am sort of that woman.)

It's just hair.

But hair is important! It was power for Samson, convenience for Lady Godiva, and love for Della.

For me, it usually means control. And as you very well know, I'm a control freak. (I've been harping on this but it's been more aggressively infiltrating my life lately.) When my world gets too heavy my ability to control something lessens the weight. I latch on to completing a work assignment, planning a trip, buying the perfect outfit, or, maybe, styling my hair. My world's not especially heavy right now, just a little whirly, and I really did want just a few layers, but there's still a lesson for me to learn and then promptly forget.

No matter how much I plan and think and worry and panic sometimes it's just not going to work out. I can't pick the bits of my hair off that salon floor. I can't control everything. Sometimes there is just nothing I can do. And it really, really sucks.

And it really is just hair; it will grow back.

In conclusion, I'll turn to India.Arie. I first heard this song on Good Morning America in a segment on Robin Roberts losing her hair during her battle with breast cancer. (Perspective much, Bonnie?) It's such a beautiful song and I've been singing it in my head all day today. (My head with all my hair secured in a ponytail that I only let three people see down.)

I am not my hair/I am not this skin/I am just the soul that lives within

(Until it grows out again -- then I am totally my hair. Kidding!)

Day 363: Every little bit helps

Today's new thing is something I've been wanting to do for a long time. Specifically, the past year, as that's how long I've been growing out my hair. And tonite I cut 10 inches of my hair to donate to Pantene's Beautiful Lengths campaign.

Before:
Making sure it's long enough:
Mom starting to cut:
Still cutting:
My hair!:
After:
And even shorter after I got it professionally trimmed:
I feel bald and am still experiencing phantom hair pangs, but I'm happy. And very light.

Day 316: Hair today, gone tomorrow (Oh yes, I went there.)

I've been growing my hair out for about a year now, which means I haven't had it properly cut in about a year. This might not be the case when others grow their hair out, but it is for me. I haven't seen the point to have someone charge me $50 just to trim a few split ends. But when I found out about a student hairdresser charging $10 at a salon in Dupont, I made an appointment. Two hours later, maybe a quarter of an inch shorter, and much, much lighter, I got my hair cut by a student hairdresser.

She was very attentive and did a good job. She did insist on cutting some of the weight off my normally super-thick hair, which now makes me feel bald, but other than that, it's fine. And though the salon was advertised as being interested in urban hairstyles, always striving for trendy and hip, I did not leave with a mohawk or stripes. Thank you, for that.