Blame it on Beckham...

Posh Victoria that is.

You know those shows where they take a woman who hasn't had a haircut in 15 years, whose hair is down past her knees and is in dire need of a makeover? The weight, the time, the hair product, the sheer energy needed to maintain all that mane on a day to day basis - I can't imagine! And the majority of these women tie it all up in a pony tail or put it up in a bun, just so they can function throughout the day. What's the point of that? If you lop it all off, it does grow back. I just didn't understand why those women would get so emotional over getting a badly needed haircut. Tears streaming down their cheeks, sometimes bawling their eyes out. I didn't get it.

Until now. I've spent the last year or so making a conscious effort to grow my hair past my shoulders. Taking advantage of not having to go to an office or meeting everyday, letting it grow longer and longer, colouring it a bit more crazily -- a little bit of me peeking out despite my 150% focus on my kids. Actually, letting it get long so I can finally put it in a ponytail and flick it around with abandon at my thrice-weekly hip-hop aerobic classes.

To top it off, Ian actually likes it longer nowadays- it's the longest its been since we started going out. I know, guys hate that, long hair when you're reeling them in (to get that - ok, close your eyes little ones - "just f*#ked look" as coined by an old girlfriend of mine). Then when you've got them, you cut it short. But because of the texture of my hair, usually the longer it got, the harder it was to manage. It seemed sleeker when it was shorter. And then I found Sandy, my wonderful stylist, who has been able to cut and colour my hair exactly as I want (or even better). I was able to grow it long again.

So, back to now. "Was" is the operative word. It's fall, a change in season, time of new beginnings. As I was sitting in the salon with little G, flipping through the hair magazine, I found the 2008 trend pages. My eyes kept coming back to this one particular cut, and even though I kept turning the pages, looking at the longer hair styles, my left thumb would not leave that page.

After my hair wash, having settled G down with her Max and Ruby DVD (portable players, world's greatest invention) I sat down in front of Sandy.

Sandy said, "Wow, it's getting long. So, what are we doing today?". I showed her the picture.
She replied, "That's nice, we should do it."
I said nervously, "But I've spent months and months growing it long, should I really do it?".
Sandy said, "You look great with long, but why not, it's a great cut, and it will grow back."

Then we went for it. There was a part of me secretly cringing, "What, am I crazy, I've been growing it for eons and it's all coming off?!!". Thank goodness we were chatting the whole time as I didn't even notice the good eight inches she chopped off the back. Until G pointed to the floor and asked me where all that hair came from. I'm glad I didn't have my glasses on. But Sandy's better than your average chopper:



Yes, me cracking up at the fact that I'm taking a picture of myself (you don't want to know how many it took) to pop in here. I didn't realize that my hair was that red! I couldn't go quite as short as Posh Spice, but it was certainly her influence and that of several of the girls at the salon (they all look so chic!) that made me think of a change.

When Ian came home he was shocked; in a good way, although the first words he said were "I thought you were keeping it long" (the inner guy thing remember?). But he likes it. As does the Boy.

But little G wants her Mommy back. I guess she's only really known me with longer hair. So I think it will take a while for both of us girls to get used to it.