I’m blogging on the train! Im in a tiny little cabin with a couple of bunks, plowing through steaming hot corn fields. It hit me that my first DIY haircut was on a train. Seattle to Yellowstone park, age 7.
Bored to death. I got a hold of my dad’s swiss army knife and took it to the little bathroom, where the scissor attachment took its maiden voyage through my slightly past the shoulder length hair.
I remember the satisfaction that came with doing something so independent and seemingly final as I cut my hair straight across into a jagged, uneven bob. I returned to my family who sat preoccupied in their seats with a smug defiance.
No one noticed. At first I was disappointed by the lack of fanfare, but that soon gave way to the feeling that I had a little secret that was just mine, and I continued to cut my hair in private whenever I felt the urge.
My hair has been above the shoulders ever since, as I have found it nearly impossible to keep my shears and comb out of it. It always seems to be a case of impulse cutting or a client no-show that I decide to start cutting at it, which is mostly just an indication of my own boredom.
So anyhow, sitting here on this train, I would like to share with you that my hair is officially long-ish. It is sweeping past the mole on my upper back, dancing down my shoulders, nestling at my collar bone when pulled into a side pony. Does this train trip mark the passing through an impulsive phase of my life that is coming to an end?
How do you keep from cutting your hair as it grows through awkward phases on its way to long??Maybe a mantra? a friend to talk you down from the ledge? I find that having a photo of my desired hair goal on my mirror is helpful when I get the urge, to remind me not to stray the course.
We will see how long I can hold out.
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