For no apparent reason the other day I started crying. Grief once more rearing its head, spitefully poking me until the tears flowed like an unwelcome acquaintance.
At the time I was standing with a friend. She is glamorous, slender, always made up to perfection and wears her hair stylishly short.
Beside her in my jeans and sweatshirt I feel positively old and frumpy.
Pulling my woolly hat from my head I asked what I should do with my hair.
It has always been long, apart from once having a bob but I soon grew it out.
Andrew, a typical man, liked it long and hated me going to the hairdressers, he worried I would get it all chopped off and how I used to tease him that I just might!
My dad is another matter altogether. He likes to stir things up a bit and playing devil’s advocate he says I should wear my hair short. “It will always grow.” He retorts with glee.
Actually despite their disagreement in how I have my hair cut my dad and Andrew really had a lot in common. Andrew had that awkward streak about him too. Always being controversial just for the sake of it. Arguing black is white for fun.
Maybe that’s why I married him, maybe girls marry a man like their father in the same way we become like our mothers. There is some kind of inevitability about it.
My friend’s advice was I should grow my hair again. Although hers is short she wishes it was longer and claims it is not stylish but a mess! Isn’t that always the way?
So I am caught in the middle of my dad and my husband. Whose opinion matters most?
I have come to the conclusion - MINE!
And that’s the thing, I can ask as many friends as I want but what’s going to make ME feel great?
Yes I can get my hair cut short now without offending Andrew. I can wear make-up and perfume to my heart’s content, always aspiring to look more like my glamorous friend.
I love to dress up and I sometimes wish I had more time to apply my make-up and do my nails but then there are days when I’m happiest in my jeans, not having to make an effort before I cross the threshold to meet the outside world.
Just because I CAN re-invent myself doesn’t mean I HAVE to.
“There was nothing wrong with the old Sarah!” said another friend when I shared these thoughts with her.
And my hair? Well I think it may be a little while before I see the hairdresser again because personally I like my hair long too!