Gaining Confidence

Not long ago, I had a nightmare. In my dream, I had cut my hair shockingly short, and bleached it platinum blonde. (SHORT HAIR NIGHTMARE) The thing that surprised me was how much I loved my hair so short. It was a nightmare because I knew Chuck and I had not talked about getting my hair cut at all, let alone nearly chopping it off, and I didn't want to catch him off guard.

With my asymmetrical cut, I've been flirting with shorter hair by having one side cut much shorter than the other, but I have lacked the commitment to cut the other side to match. 

Since my nightmare, Chuck and I have talked about hair quite a bit. He knows I've dreamed of having it short (literally and figuratively), and he wants me to live the life I've dreamed of in every way; to feel fulfilled; to have purpose; to surround myself with supportive, creative, and happy people; to explore our world of Chicagoland; to write and read and create; to follow my heart. He has been nothing but supportive of everything I've wanted to try and do. If short hair would make me happy, it will make him happy, too.

My hair is really fine, but luckily, I have a lot of it. It is also limp, but with the right products, I can usually get it to do what I want it to do, unless I'm caught in a rainstorm, or the humidity levels are high, or I'm sweating; the results are the same. My hair is frightfully flat when it is damp. Bad hair days are a regular occurrence here in the midwest. I have a sneaking suspicion that shorter hair will be easier to manage.

For a long time, I have been collecting pictures of short hairstyles on Pinterest I wish I had the courage to try. Our daughters-in-law both wear their hair short and sassy, and Amy even has a Pinterest board called "Short Hair-Don't Care." I just love that. I have wanted to adopt that attitude to go with the hair.

Our summer is about to get really busy. In two weeks, the Bristol Renaissance Faire will start its nine-week season every Saturday and Sunday. Our youngest is planning a road trip to come see us for a week. We have a wedding to shoot and a wedding to attend, a birthday party at the race track, and local festivals and holiday celebrations. In gearing up for our busy schedule, we purposely left our weekend open this week. Our Saturday and Sunday were filled with options, and we picked and chose things we wanted to do in between our down time at home. 

After we'd been to the French Market in Wheaton, and wandered through Geneva during the Swedish Days Festival, we had nothing planned for the afternoon. 

Chuck asked me how brave I was feeling about getting my hair cut. GULP. He offered to take me right then and there, if it was something I really wanted to do.

How many husbands secretly wish their wives would keep their hair long? I have a sneaking suspicion most hold fantasies of their wives having long, flowing tresses. Chuck would never admit to that dream because more than anything, he wants to honor who I am, what I think, and what I really want. If I want my hair short-short-short, that's what he wants. Sometimes I can't even fathom the depth of his love for me. 

So, WAS I feeling brave? I felt like I was being given such a gift; to be given the freedom to be the woman I want to be, without any reservations or misgivings. The only thing stopping me was me; I finally realized that. He makes me feel braver than I am, at times. With a grin that perhaps belied my actual level of confidence, I told him I was ready to cut my hair.

I did it. I really did it. When I walked away from the hairstylist's station, Chuck rose from the chair in the waiting area with the biggest smile, as he said, "You look GREAT... I bet you'll get lots of compliments on your hair at church."

"Not many of our friends at church have short hair," I reminded him.

"I can think of lots of people with short hair there," he said. "Brian, Melvin, Ken, Mike..." Sigh. (I may have done a slight eye roll at this point.) 

To me, my hair is a metaphor for living my life my way. It's one of the last pieces of the puzzle of the woman I want to be that is falling into place. I no longer have to envy women who are wearing their hair short. I am doing what I think is best for me these days. I am feeling more confident about myself and my choices than ever before. Short hair; don't care, indeed!