A Heartbreaking Realization
Sometimes, we need to stop for a moment and examine our lives. Really take a snapshot of where we are, who we are, and what we're about. It's during these times that we may come to certain realizations about ourselves, things that are not pretty or attractive that have caused us to point a finger when we see it elsewhere. Things about ourselves that have gone on while we turned away, ignoring the things we don't like to see. Things that develop while we insist on seeing things another way.

It's ugly, and yet suddenly it's a part of us.

Taking a long look in the mirror is a tough thing to do. Really standing there, examining the image before us, looking at the brutal realism staring back at us.

I did that today. I bravely assessed what I saw in the mirror, and was rewarded with the disappointment of accepting the reality before me. As my eyes filled with tears at what I saw reflected back, I came to the heartbreaking realization that . . .

I have a mullet.

It's true. I have to finally admit it. My hair has gone so long without a haircut that it has essentially turned into an out-of-control mullet-esque 'do. I have to come to grips with this. It's hard. But, it's true.

However, there is a rational explanation for it. Once upon a time, I had really, really short hair. I mean, short. Gel-and-go kind of short. It was great. I never had to worry about a bad hair day. It was cute. I was cute. The whole thing was hip and edgy. And it took no time at all to fix. It was great.

Then, I let it grow a little bit. Still short, but long enough that I could run a hand through it, or put a clip in it. I still basically did gel-and-go, sometimes drying it with the hairdryer for a few minutes. At this stage, it at least looked like I did have hair, as opposed to the next closest thing to a shaved head. Still edgy and cute. I was hip.

Then, I decided (after much back and forth and failed attempts to let it grow) to actually let it grow for awhile. It was hard to fight the temptation to quit the hair-growing-out process, with all it's ugly stages. But essentially, I just made the decision to not go for haircuts every six weeks as usual. I didn't know what I wanted the hair to look like, but I decided it was time to let it grow a bit. Just a bit. But to be actual hair, long enough to put maybe . . . two clips in it. Sometimes.

My hair grows fast, and before long it was longer than it had been in a long time. Still short, comparatively speaking. Still not yet at my shoulders. But obviously growing. I could put two, even three clips in it if I wanted to. Tiny clips, but clips nonetheless. Not long enough to ponytail, but long enough to be considered flowing locks of hair. It catches in the wind now. This has started to scare me.

I hate taking time to do my hair. It still only takes five to ten minutes, but it requires effort now. I have to dry it with the hairdryer. Worse, I have to use a brush. And hairspray. I went two or three years without brushing my hair, because I didn't have any hair long enough to brush. It was great! Now, I have bad hair days when my hair doesn't 'do' right. I hate that. It's tempting to cut it all off again.

But, I'm trying to stick with it. It's now long enough so that I can begin to decide what I want the next 'do to be. It's in transition at this point in time. Not really anything. Just sort of there. On it's way to something better. Yet, still requiring nearly no effort to look fabulous. I hope.

The issue holding me accountable to refrain from cutting it prematurely again is that my hairdresser is perpetually booked solid. She only works a few days a week, and has been the only person to cut my hair in the last twelve years. This is not a relationship I can break. She knows my hair. So when I forget to call for an appointment, it's usually several weeks before I can get in. Consequently, my hair has gone too long without at least a trim. Months, in fact.

And it has, in fact, become a mullet. I just have to admit it, embarrassing as it is.

An unintentional mullet, mind you. As no person in their right mind would purposely prefer a mullet, thinking it looks good.

But for the next two weeks, until I can have my appointment for a haircut, I will be sporting the unintentional mullet. With two or more clips to hide it as best I can.

Payback, I'm sure, for all the mullets I've made fun of throughout the years.

C.T.