The Emotional Rollercoaster Of Haircuts

My freshmen year of college I used to cry over bad grades, which is such a stark contrast to my junior year of college where I was determining how many questions I had to answer on that final to keep my grade in the class. I overcame the emotion of feeling like a failure, with the reality that one bad grade wouldn’t wreck your whole semester.

I’d like to think of myself as fairly level headed. College has definitely helped with that. I’ve learned how to reason with myself, and think rationally.

Until my hair is involved.

   ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

 ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

If you’re a girl, you’re nodding your head in agreement right now because I don’t care where on the spectrum you land on girly-ness, you have some sort of emotional attachment to your hair.

I don’t care, I say.
It grows back, I remind myself.

Then I’m standing in the mirror with 2 minutes before I have to leave for work frantically trying to flatten it because it’s too puffy and my head looks like a giant triangle. At that point, all rational thinking goes away, and I’m running into work unsatisfied with everything about myself because of my hair. 

3 weeks ago I walked into the salon, told the Utah hair dresser who I just met that I wanted something new, we looked at pictures and she cut 8 inches off. It was completely MY choice, and when she started cutting I had real anxiety. 

For the most part, I love it short. I feel older, people actually view me as a woman instead of asking what high school I attend. Then there are days I hate it. I probably hated my hair more days before I cut it, but I don’t remember that. I only remember how much I loved it long, the ease of throwing it into a pony tail, and the big curls I could put in it.

A grass is always greener scenario, ya know?

Why do we (I’m lumping you in this) do that to ourselves? Why do we get so emotional about something that has proven itself to grow back time after time?

Sometimes I am the same way with my relationship with God. I look back to the seasons of ease when I’m staring at the giant triangle in the mirror. I think about how much better life was before this, or when that, and forget that Jesus is faithful. Just like my hair always grows back, He’s always going to sustain me through this season. I’m going to look back at it like I look back on my long hair, fondly because it seems easy now.

Am alone with hair meltdowns? Do you feel like the grass is always greener? How do you embrace what you have?