23 Inches

Well hello blogettes! I thought I'd pop in for a few minutes. Part of the reason I haven't been blogging for the last several days is poor mental attitude. In other words, I've had a bad case of pre-surgery anxiety for the last week or two and you really wouldn't have wanted to hear from me because I've had little of interest to talk about. Now, though, I've successfully jumped two of the three surgery hurdles--the only one left is the surgery itself--and I'm feeling some relief at having gotten this far. Surgery should be a piece of cake, eh? Well, maybe not. But let me tell you about the first hurdle.

So the title of this post: 23 inches. Do you know how long 23 inches is? Here's a visual that might help.

My very long 6" x 24" Omnigrid ruler is one inch longer than 23 inches. My 18" x 24" cutting mat--which extends almost the entire width of my sewing table--is one inch longer than 23 inches. I know 23 inches doesn't really SOUND as long as it LOOKS, so I wanted to give you a visual idea of what I'm talking about.

Okay, so the first surgical hurdle I've now jumped? Getting 23 inches cut off my hair.

Big hurdle, huh? Well, it was for me, anyway. My hair has been growing forever with not much cutting aside from occasional trims. See the nude self portrait of me in my profile in the side bar? I don't look the same anymore; I need to have another photo shoot soon. Seriously? I think getting my hair cut was nearly as traumatic as the surgery will be.

I've been thinking for the past couple of years that I SHOULD cut my hair, but thinking and doing are two different things. Really, having it that long was just silly since it wasn't practical to wear it down, and putting it up and hiding it away every day? Well why have it? So when I knew I'd need to be able to take care of my hair with one hand, I was finally pushed into taking the step between thinking and doing. I bit the bullet and made an appointment with a hair salon. REALLY a good experience, overall, and those 23 inches that were cut off will go to Locks of Love.

In its natural state, my hair is absolutely stick straight and very fine. It tangles horribly. Within about an hour of styling, it gets limp and stringy. So after some thought, I decided I'd also need some kind of perm for body. And you know what? My hair now looks a lot like it did in the 80s. Remember when EVERYONE had a perm? Yeah, that look. A little bit below my shoulders, a bit layered, and kinky curly. I'll be able to experiment with some styling by Sunday and I'm told the curl will loosen up quite a bit in about a week, so that's all good. And really? With one hand, I think I'll still be able to wash it, stick some gel in it, scrunch it up, and go. Simple.

I was a little bit teary-eyed when I first arrived at the salon, but by the time I left, I was pretty pleased with the outcome. So pleased, in fact, I nearly sat down and wrote this post then and there. But the second hurdle still loomed--the pre-op testing which I had planned for today. And when I sat down at the computer last night to write this post, I thought I'd first take a minute to review the pre-op instructions. It was then that I realized I'd already screwed up the second hurdle, and my enthusiasm for my haircut was quickly replaced by panic. I'll tell you about that in the next post.