Rapunzel

I've been thinking about growing my hair long again. I'm not one of those girls who always go on about wanting their hair cut short once it's long and regret it instantly but every so often I feel like change. Mostly I think it's because my hair needs sorted again and I don't the time or mind to do something about it. Bleh to hairdressers and their crazy ways.

I used to have hair down past my breasts only this was pre-boobage since I cut it all off at age 11. I've kept it at shoulder-length and above since then with one exception. Generally my hair is a big, wavy mass that causes me no end of grief. My grief usually pushes me to run a brush through it, turn my head upside down, give it a good shake and with a little luck it becomes socially acceptable. Waking up has always been a joy when it comes to facing the unruly mop in the mirror and working out whether I even have the time to pull it down before I miss the bus. I don't tend to sleep anywhere other than the comfort of my own bed and fortunately the few times I've crashed somewhere my hair has behaved itself. The man who can face waking up next to the girl with a cockatoo on her head is the man I'll love forever.

So sometimes I stand next to the mirror and wish for long hair that would tumble over my shoulders and bounce it's way down my back. It's really along the lines of my wishing I had red curly hair and long legs and the ability to speak at a level human beings can hear without my tongue tripping over itself. Once my hair reaches a certain length, bam: instant straightification. My long hair laughs at your puny ceramic straighteners, it has the power to straighten itself out completely after hours of twisting and retwisting heated rollers. And while this may sound impressive it leads to a very bland looking girl.

Thus I am stuck with the scruffier, shorter look if I want to look like anything worth looking at. Of course the sheer weight of my hair means untamable kinks and a lot of the time I look like the male population of Glasgow University which either says a lot about me or the guys that study there. Plus there's the fact that guys like long haired girls. Every guy I've been with (bar the crazy David who was really a stop-over between the first and last David) has told me not to cut my hair so with every break up comes a new haircut. The last one was the only guy I grew it for. Then he tells me maybe I should cut it short again because that's the kinda bastard he was.

All of what I've written is what goes through my head everyday I wake up with mad hair and it always ends in the same old brush and shake and dash for the bus. Really I should go get it cut soon, stop the mane from taking over while there's still time but you know that would be sensible.