03 Sep

So I’m standing in my bedroom, ankle deep in laundry that needs to be done, analyzing myself in the mirror.  I had just dried my hair with a hairdryer (a new, crazy routine that I’ve started) and I was trying to decide whether the additional volume made my cheekbones more pronounced.  See, my sisters inherited beautiful supermodel cheekbones from my mother, but they didn’t really become pronounced until they were twenty five or so.  I’ve been waiting for mine to appear.  Maybe if I wear my hair up, I think.  I try to pull it back, but it falls forward in pieces.  I huff angrily, and contemplate cutting it all off.


An imaginary floating version of myself appears next to me, as is normal for any child of the 80’s.  It’s the only way we know how to argue with ourselves.

Floating Jessica: “Don’t.”

Me: “What?”

Floating Jessica: “I know what you’re thinking.  Don’t.”

Me: “What?  About cutting my hair?”

Floating Jessica: “About cutting our hair.  I’m the one with the foresight, remember?  I’m the wise one, and here’s my nugget of sage advice.  Don’t cut your flippin’ hair.”

Me: “But it’s so annoying! It looks awful!

Floating Jessica: “No, it looks awful TODAY.  You always do this!  We work on growing our hair out for like a year, and just when it barely starts getting long, you get a stupid little impulse that it looks weird, and you cut it off without a second thought.  AND THEN WE START OVER.

Me: “Well, maybe I don’t look good with long hair.  Maybe I only look good with short hair.”

Floating Jessica: “You don’t look good with short hair.  You look like a saucy sailor boy.”

Me: “Does that Hermione Granger girl look like a saucy sailor boy?  She just cut her hair.  She looks fabulous.”

Floating Jessica: “She’s also a movie star and a model for Chanel or something.  Don’t cut your hair.”

Me: “But it’s haaard.  It looks funnnny.  I look stuuuupid.”

Floating Jessica: “It’s only hard today.  Yesterday you thought you looked pretty cute.  Remember?  In the mirror at work?  You turned to the side, sucked in your stomach just a little bit and did kind of like a sexy eyebrow thing, and you felt pretty great about yourself and your long hair.”

Me: “That was yesterday.  This is today.”

Floating Jessica:  “And what about tomorrow?  I’m telling you.  Listen to me.  You didn’t listen to me when I told you not to shower without the drain protector in it.  You didn’t listen to me when I told you not to buy that pack of twelve chicken breasts that was about to expire.  You didn’t even listen to me when I told you to put a shirt on before you started cooking bacon, and how did all of those things end?”

Me: “Badly.”

Floating Jessica: “YES.  They ended BADLY.  Look, you don’t have a shoulder angel or a shoulder devil.  You just got ME.  Your BRAIN.  And guess what, your brain is SMARTER THAN YOU.  So when I tell you not to cut your hair, you better not.”

Me: “Cheezus, fine.  I didn’t know you felt so strongly about this.”

Floating Jessica: “Well, I do.”

Me: “Fine.  Sorry.”

Floating Jessica: “So?”

Me: “So what?”

Floating Jessica: “Are you going to cut it?”

Me: “I…guess not.  But I want to.”

Floating Jessica: “I know.  Give it like…five more months.  Okay?  Five more months?”

Me: “Five more months.”

Floating Jessica: “Deal.”


Posted by on September 3, 2010 in Uncategorized


6 responses to “paff!

  1. Alexandra

    September 3, 2010 at 9:29 am

    I love it! I was a young nanny in the eighties and I know what you’re talking about. Floating angel and devil is sooo passé, “Out with the spiritual mumbo jumbo and the backward ways, enter the veritable age of reason.”

    aaaahhh, reason prevails. you must be growing up 😉

  2. Angela

    September 3, 2010 at 11:21 am

    I can’t remember whether I’ve ever commented, so if not – hello! I always enjoy your blog posts. Another blogger had this exact same impulse yesterday and chose differently (I know the link looks weird but it’s not):

    I applaud your commitment to grow out your hair. It’s definitely trying during those in-between stages. My hair goes all the way down my back at the moment but I’ve been itching to cut it again. I wind up wearing it in a bun every day because it’s so thick and gets in my way, but I don’t think I could form a bun with shorter hair. I go back and forth and end up convincing myself that the long hair will hit just the right note of elegance for any swanky parties I may attend. (Side note: I do not attend swanky parties…)

  3. lisa

    September 3, 2010 at 11:24 am

    Haha this is great! I’ve been growing my hair out all summer to try out all these hairstyles that involve braids of different sizes and a bun. But now that fall has arrived I’m ready for my hair to be shoulder-length again instead of halfway down my back.

  4. Kelly

    September 3, 2010 at 1:59 pm

    Growing out is the WORST. I’ve been growing mine out for a couple years, but a few weeks ago I went and got two inches hacked off and I curse myself every time I see my reflection. It two inches a lot? No. But when you’re trying to grow it out, any cut sounds good one moment and then the next day you totally regret it.

    Anyway, nothing to add except to be strong and make it through those 5 months!

  5. glamourlegen

    September 5, 2010 at 10:34 am

    Have never commented on your blog before, but just have to say Thank You, Djeezus that you´re back in form! The night I discovered yout blog, hubby-to-be glanced at me repeatedly across the table with a raised eyebrow, and asked ´What´s so funny? Come again; what´s so funny??? A BLOOOG?`

    Yup. You´re that funny. I love your supermen, and spiders, and work related stuff, and crazy supermarket women. And now this hair thing. I have limp, lank, baby-fine, blonde Scandinavian hair (and noo, that´s not a blessing). And I first cut my hair (and eyelashes; I thought they grew back thicker…) when I was about four. Entered the livingroom, and my chubby little angelic face´s expression went from glee and proudness and excitement to sheer and utter horror and despair, reflecting the faces of the adults staring at me in disbelief. I should have learned my lesson. But repeatedly, over the years, I have been bored/drunk/upbeat/neither, and gone into the bathroom with a pair of scissors, determined to either a) cut the most stylish, pixie-ish, sassy do in the history of mankind, or b) all of the above, applied to some perfect-length bangs. Righto.

    Lately the urge has come upon me again. Bangs, bangs, I crave me some sassy bangs. But no. I´ll follow your advice and abstain. Because what´s going to look back at me from the mirror is not that saucy French Chanel model that I´m picturing in my head. It´ll be a librarian. And not the saucy kind. More like Oh-my-I-have-a-bald-man-patch-on-my-scalp-but-if-I-continue-to-wear-these-home-sewn-purple-vests-then-nobody-will-notice. And believe me, this librarian exists.

  6. Terri

    September 9, 2010 at 4:45 pm

    You nailed it. I’ve been growing mine out for nearly a year and it is just now becoming long enough to begin to think about the over the shoulder braid I want. This is exactly how my interior monologue goes!


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