Whenever I get frustrated with my hair and consider cutting it all off, I remind myself of the last time I cut it all off, in November 1993. I also remind myself that I regretted cutting it off in the cold season because there always seemed to be a draft against my neck and ears. I also remind myself of the maintenance: the regular haircuts, the stubborn cowlicks, the crazy bedhead, the product (pomade, hairspray, gel). Then there was the awkward growing out stage: I wore hats all the time, even at work. I used clips, headbands, and even more product. I tucked my hair behind my ears, my fringe (bangs) never stayed put, and while my hair is semi-curly when it’s long, it’s just one big cowlick when it’s short — it has a mind of its own.
All in, short hair is a monumental hassle within about a week of the initial shearing. So I keep talking myself out of The Big Chop, because I would only regret it. Again.
I was searching for photos of me with short hair, and there aren’t that many (well, not many for the public). This one is a year after The Big Chop, and it took nine months to reach this stage. I kept it more mid-length for several years. (I still love that photo, every time I link to it I crack up.)
For the purposes of hair comparison, I dug up this photo with Kenny, my Glaswegian boyfriend at the time. Christmas was a big party at his house with the entire clan (he’s one of six). My mop was still at the awkward growing-out stage. And speaking of awkward, that’s kind of how we look, although I’m sure it was because we were camera-shy.
As a total aside, that was one of my favourite shirts — I bought it at Camden Market in London, and I thought the embroidery and style looked Ukrainian (I grew up in Winnipeg, home to many Ukrainians). Well, what do you know, the tag said it was made in Canada. Funny that I had to travel all the way to jolly ol’ England to find a shirt made at home.
Sadly, the shirt’s demise was after this photo was taken: late in the evening the living room got rearranged to make a dance floor and I sat on a coffee table and leaned back against a lit candle! Disaster was averted, no Christmas Day ambulances were called to Kenny’s house due to me catching on fire, but the back of the shirt melted 
On the bright side, at least my hair wasn’t long enough to get singed off, either…
Video for today: famous Glaswegian comedian and actor Billy Connolly performing live. If you’re at all offended by coarse language, consider yourselves warned, Connolly curses like a sailor. Way back in 1994, I remember walking down the street in Edinburgh one day and he walked right by me. I did a double-take — Billy Connolly! — and remember thinking, damn, Billy Connolly is REALLY TALL.
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