Hubs and I have an ongoing "discussion" about girls and their hair length. Men across the board want women to have long hair. I think they have this fantasy that if our hair is long that we will be morphed into some slinky super model that spritzes herself each morning in coco butter. And then we will walk out the door covered in glittering in the morning sun. And then we will frolic over, lay on a log, and dream of writing prose.
I'm usually only glittering because of the sweat that has formed on my overgrown eye brows as I lug my babies to the grocery store in the summer. And the hair that he loves so much...ya, it's tucked into a nice half pony tail. A half pony tail because it feels a tad bit like I actually did my hair that morning. And because full pony tails make me feel like a cheerleader. If I'm draped over a log, it's because my kid has thrown his shoe from the stroller and I'm trying desperately to find it and to save myself another trip to the store to buy the third pair this season.
If I thought I was going to be a cute as Sinead O'Connor in this above picture, I'd shave my hair all off. Seriously, look at that specimen of femininity. But I'd look like a bull dog. Or a party balloon. Either way, my husband would shackle me to the closet until it all grew back if I decided to pull off a a hair cut like that.
But I'm not gonna say I'm not tempted to cut it all off sometimes.
And I am training him to understand that when you get older, you just shouldn't have long hair. Unless you are a librarian or a yoga instructor living in Portland. It just shouldn't be. Like Chris Farley in Spandex.
