Four years ago, when I was living and studying in Florence, Italy, I chopped off my long locks for a chic Italian pixie. The whole affair was very Audrey Hepurn in Roman Holiday. The Italian woman giving me the cut didn’t speak a word of English. The only things she said to me were “corto” (short) and “bel viso.” If a gorgeous Italian hairdresser tells you have a have beautiful face that you need show off with a pixie cut, you believe her. And go for it.
And for the next four years, I declared that I’d never go back to long hair again. With my short hair, my curls are bouncier and take almost no maintenance. I don’t have to worry about knots at the base of my neck from winter scarves or trying (and failing) to experiment with new up-dos.
But I’ve been doing a lot of winter training (see: Pittsburgh Marathon, Here I Come!), and I’m getting really, really sick of spending ten minutes trying to get my hair into the tiniest ponytail you’ve ever seen.
And it is winter after all. People grow out there hair in the winter, right? The whole point of No Shave November really comes down to warmth, doesn’t it?
So I’m growing out my hair. And I can’t wait to get those curls into a ponytail again.
p.s. In other news, my twin moved to the Netherlands (no, not Norway), I’m strongly considering getting a Labradoodle, I hurt my leg (which is one reason why I chose triathlon. I’ll be swimming and cycling for next few weeks!), and I’ve been listening to a load of my Dad’s old records. Stevie Ray Vaughan being my current spin.