Let it Grow

I haven’t seen Frozen. I have, however, heard about 7 versions of that annoyingly sticks-in-your-head song “Let it Go”, thus the title of this post. Whatever. I’m talking about my hair, trying to grow it out, and what happens every time…

I’ve chopped my hair twice so far now. As in, from middle of my back to pixie cut short. I’ve done less extreme chops too, of course, from long flowing locks to short choppy bob, but that’s just nothing compared to the extremeness of the pixie cut. I love short hair, really love it. I also love long hair. Thus the back and forth. What inevitably ends up happening every time I chop my hair is that I love it for about a year and then decide to grow it out. Growing it out is a pain. A super pain. Mostly because you get to deal with the various levels of awkwardness/mullet stages.  

But such is life. You deal with the awkward and press on to the great goal of having long hair. And then I see a pic like this:



Must. Resist. Trip. To. Salon.


Alissa Jean (with growing-out hair, still. staying strong, for now.)

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