Friday, February 5, 2010

good things come to those who donate

Yesterday I donated ten and a half inches of my hair to Locks of Love. Technically, it hasn't been donated YET, as it is still hanging out in my bag. Which is certainly a little strange. What if I am on the subway and I am reaching for something in my bag, but a Ziploc bag of auburn hair falls out instead? Um, psycho with some sort of shrine? Cool. I should probably send in the hair today, huh?

I've been wanting to donate my hair for years, but its never worked out until now. First it was a problem because I've been coloring my hair since I was 15, and LoL did not accept color-treated hair for donation. Then, when they did start accepting it, I had to wait more than a year to further grow my hair out. And last night, after anxiously awaiting February 4th, snip snip went the scissors and I teared up when my ponytail was finally detached from my head.

I made the appointment about three weeks ago, and up until yesterday I was very excited to donate my hair. I've had long(er) hair for more than two years (its been three since my last short haircut) and maintaining it to my level of satisfaction was sometimes a challenge. I like to be pretty low maintenance in the morning (compared to say, Rachel*. Although I say that with love, darling), and washing and straightening my hair usually took 35-40 minutes to get under control and then my arm hurt from all that damn pulling. But sometimes it looked super hot and it made it worth it.

Yesterday, though, I was UNREASONABLY sad about cutting it. I was going through some other crazy emotions and the idea of cutting my long hair was the last thing that I was interested in. But I went through with it because I had set the date. It was happening.

So here I am.

I woke up this morning, forgot that I had cut my hair, and when I got to the bathroom I didn't recognize myself.

Shortly after, I got an excited call from my unemployed stepfather to tell me that he is now EMPLOYED! This is HUGE for my family - both financially and emotionally. It alleviates a great deal of pressure on me to continuing caring for them as though I was the parent. Not completely, though, because my family still has a long way to go, but it's a terrific step forward. John is amped to start work and he thanked me several times for my help in getting him to this point. He said that he "knew" I'd help him. And that made me feel good.

A little less than an hour later, I spoke with my mother, and told her how excited I was to get that phone call. She then told me that last night she had a dream that my recently deceased grandfather was standing at the end of her bed, trying to wake her. He told her that everything was going to be okay. He said that he'd started a garden where he was and my aunt (his daughter), although inept at gardening, was helping him. I cried.

Today I've seen great good karma come my way from cutting my long locks. Some very much needed positivity. Maybe my hair was cursed?

And maybe I will win my office Superbowl pool!

*it's just her picking out clothes process... but it's 99.9% of mornings.

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