Hair

As I mentioned in my last post, when I'm feeling ennuious (no, that's not a word, but it should be!), I develop 3 cravings: to eat junk food, to move away, and to wear makeup. There is, however, in recent months, another option. Lately, my general malaise has also been manifesting itself in a desire to cut my hair.

My ponytail measures 27 inches these days. It has already reached the point where people are awed by it, and there's really no incentive for me to keep growing it "until it starts to look ratty," as was my original plan. I'm growing weary of its demanding maintenance schedule (which requires a good half-hour of detangling every day, plus nightly braiding), and I've seen ladies with braids that extend past their butts, and I don't think they look all that good.

But still, I hesitate to sever all ties with my old friend (get it!?) just yet. I've begun to feel that my hair is my not-so-secret weapon. It's dramatic. It's a talking point. It gives people reason to notice me.

Without this 2-foot clump of keratin trailing behind me, I fear I would recede into invisibility. Without "Wow, your hair is getting really long!" as an opening line, my reunions with long-unvisited friends and family members might never progress past the awkward-grinning phase. I have long suspected that one of my chief social failings is that people forget me as soon as I'm out of sight. Yet, I've come to believe that my hair is the only thing that might mitigate my forgettability (no, that's not a word, either. Get used to it). Without my ridiculously long mop, I worry there would be nothing distinctive about me.

Before I commit to such a drastic move, I need to find another gimmick—something that makes me more than just another face in the crowd. There is that penchant that I have for one-of-a-kind thrift store getups... And last winter's experiment with knee socks as a wardrobe staple went off pretty well. Maybe I should learn to harness the power of accessorizing—without big tumors of hair sticking out of my head, I'd be free to wear things like hats! Or maybe I should just stop being so vain.

Anyway, while I'm pondering how to cut my hair without going through separation anxiety, I'll leave you to ponder this abbreviated top-ten list:

You know it's time to cut your hair...

• When you can hit your funny bone with the end of your braid.
• When you can use your hair in place of a scarf.
• When you see your hairstyle reflected in a window, and you remind yourself of an alien in a Star Wars movie.
• When a loose hair can work its way down your collar and become an instrument of itchy torture somewhere in the vicinity of your belly button!
• When you start accidentally sitting on it.