OK, you can't see this, but right now my hair is really a bit longer in the back than it has been - I let it grow to see (though I knew) whether or not it would be different THIS TIME and somehow, suddenly, just OBEY! No, my hair does not obey. It's thin, it's flat, it's fine, it lays there. I can put all the product I wish into it, it lays there. If it's long I can curl it with a curling iron after I douse it with extra strength hold hair spray and it will last maybe 10 minutes until I walk outside in the Oklahoma humidity (think Iraq, we're on the same latitude line).
So, I don't care what the kids think ("You look gay with short hair Mom!") I don't care what my psychic friend said ("The man you seek likes longer hair on women, you know.") I don't care what the styles are because I'm not stylish! No really, seriously, I don't care! My head is shaped like a heart, and when you have a big fat Valentine on the top of your neck, you can't have hair hanging off the back without it looking like a mullet if it's as thin and fine as my hair - I blame my mother. She could have had sex with anyone - but she chose Dad. He's cute and everything, had that Dennis Weaver sort of shy thing going, but he has thin, flat, fine hair! Wasn't she even thinking about my future? No! (I was far more considerate of my children, thank you very much!) He's bald now, but that's by choice.
My friend went with me today when I paid for the top of my head to be cut and styled, I was trying to leave the back alone. Well, now I look like I did in the 80s and that's just not going to work for me. I don't have the body for it like I used to either - feathers are just not in, and I'm not thinking it would be too cool to bring them back alone. I'm having the head redone tomorrow morning if I can wait that long. I have to pick the boy up, go eat, and have an evening with him - but tomorrow it's back to the shears! I may not go as short as I have in the past, but I don't want to have to pull out the curling iron either - torture tools. I just want to wake up, shake the face in some water, and run a little stiff stuff through the wig...that's it. Call me lazy, but the fact is I'm really just - - well, the way I see it, God gave me a personality instead of good hair. You live with it.