I have a love/hate relationship with my hair. It's long and thick and coarse and dry. It never lacks body; it not only doesn't need to be washed every day, I wouldn't dare, because it would never settle down. But that's a good thing, because even doing next to nothing with it after a shampoo, it adds almost an hour to the proceedings.
I love that it's long -- down to my butt -- and Rob loves it, too. But I can't wear it down much, because I'd spend my life brushing out the knots that develop, and as the bones get older and creakier, putting it up gets to be more of a chore every day.
I really have mixed feelings. I don't want to cut it. But I'm tired of feeling beat up after five minutes of fighting it into a knot on top of my head. And, I'd really like to be able to stick it under the shower whenever I feel like it, not just on the day when I have an extra hour to spend on it. The day is coming.
Oh, well, I wore it short for years and years -- I know short styles work on this face, so at least I don't need to worry about that.