Shave It, Don't Save It

This is the theme in my life today because I hate my hair. Yes hate is a strong word and I don't use it lightly, but here it IS in fact appropriate. H-A-T-E, spell it out, hate. My hair has given me nothing but grief since about 1996; which btw supports my theory that you only have three good hair years after high school.

My sweet husband tries to be supportive. He says, "Your hair looks fine." Maybe he doesn't notice the frizzy, graying, thin/fine, dry mess that rests atop my head. Men don't know.

So today, after the one-millionth time of spending 30 minutes "styling" my hair only to have it turn out worse, I started to think, perhaps drastic times call for drastic measures. I've been extreme before...pixied and bleached blonde, manic panic red, tri-color braids down to the small of my back (fake hair), and that's to say nothing of my more modest attempts at cuts, layers and good ol'fashioned highlights. Oh, no. Anyway, there I stood, if front of the bathroom mirror with my husband's conair electric razor in my hand, chanting, "SHAVE IT, DON'T SAVE IT!! SHAVE IT, DON'T SAVE IT!!" Visions of my friend Rynna came to mind...she shaved her head in high school and looked better than Sinead O'Connor. But I don't have Rynna's bone structure. Still, there are some really fantastic wigs nowadays. How easy would it be to throw a new one on every morning and voila! You're ready! With thick, luscious locks that look exactly how you want them to. No curling! No blow-drying! No $60 hair products! No fuss. I could even match my outfits. Is this the solution?!

OK. Maybe in another life when I'm not a 30something LDS Mom. I put the razor down. Then I thought, I could just get pregnant. Pregnancy = good hair. What do you think? Is it time for another go?

Below is a cute picture of my child with me cropped out because I'm experiencing what? You guessed it.