Every three years or so I donate my hair to Locks of Love , and my daughter Isabelle has donated once as well. This entails the relinquishing of at least 10 inches of hair, more if the ends are kind of thin, which they usually are by the time hair gets to that length.
This time around the total cut off was 13 inches.
I had already committed to doing it, but for a split second I almost back pedaled. Then I remembered the past several months of prepping my family (not to mention myself) that had preceded this day, and sucked it up.
The hair was measured, braided, banded, and…extracted. The most difficult part, I think, is how light-headed I feel right after it’s cut. This feeling usually dissipates fairly quickly, as long as I’m careful not to turn my head too quickly…kidding!
The next most difficult part is that at the current length, my hair is too short to pull it back into a ponytail or a braid, and my daughter is torturing me to take out the clip that I have perched on the top of my head to keep my hair out of my face while I’m cooking, reading, or whatever.
“It looks stupid!” she proclaimed, grabbing for the clip as we were leaving to make a library run.
Oh. I thought it looked cute. “Leave it alone!” I snapped back. “Let’s go! I want to get there before they close.”
I left it in. Until I got to the car. Then I took it out. What if she was right and I was wrong? I wasn’t willing to risk it.
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