What Am I? Fifteen Years Old?

I got mad at my hair yesterday. I should say that over the past month or so, I have become increasingly dissatisfied with the gnarled knots I have to untangle every day in the shower. I haven't had a haircut in . . . well, I don't remember the last time I had my hair cut. I don't know why it is, except that one can't very well walk into a salon with two kids and spend hours having a cut and color, so I have just given up on my hair. My life is a constant vying of interests, hobbies, and duties for my precious time, and, well, I'm just not a very vain person. Proud to a fault, yes. Vain about my physical appearance? Not really. My hair gets short shrift every time. Not that I don't like having a new cut and color. I love it. But i hate the time involved in the process, so it gets pushed to the back burner and neglected for months on end.

Except that maybe I haven't given up at all. With due respect to my stylist, Robin, who is first and foremost my friend, I have to say that I didn't do a bad job with a pair of kitchen scissors and my own two hands.

Who is snickering right now?

The funny thing is, almost every girl I know has done this at one time or another, but most of them grew out of it in high school. Not me. I wait till the day before I start my period (coincidence? I think not) and then I grab the scissors. I don't know why, but i don't have a fear of my hair looking stupid. If anything, I kind of relish the thought of the change, good or bad.

It really doesn't look bad, though. I whacked off about three inches (I am guessing), and since I have curly hair, I can get away with it. Todd didn't even notice that I had cut it at first (men!) and then when he did, he didn't realize it was an autostyle. He is going to have to clean up a couple locks in back, but he has been doing my color in a box for the last 6 months or so. I think he can handle it.

And it cost me nothing. I am the master miser.