in the pink, or, staving off the buzz cut

I've been fighting off that old compulsion lately to shave my head. Again. The last time I succumbed to said compulsion was five years ago, June 2006, right before my thirtieth birthday. I started letting it grow out in March of 2009, so it was short for a long time (and adorable at Nathan's wedding, not that I'm biased or anything). Next week I will be thirty-five.

There are so many reasons to love the buzz cut!

The feel of wind caressing my scalp, when I am first readjusting to the quarter-inch look, is a feeling I love beyond most others.

Using bar soap instead of shampoo and conditioner makes for a damn quick shower, and also saves money!  I can go showerless for days when sporting the short 'do, an act of rebellion otherwise curtailed by overly oiled locks (and now that I'm dating my beloved hippie, who wants to take me to Rainbow Gatherings and sleepovers in the woods, this is definitely a bonus for an urban girl like me).

I can perhaps convince myself that a part of me is still that twenty-year-old girl who first chopped it all off back in 1997 (even though most of me is very glad not to be).

Self-inflicted haircuts means no hairdresser anxiety -- and believe me, this is no small thing!

So I've been flailing in the other direction instead, growing into a girlishness that for years I publicly despised but sometimes undeniably craved.  I've been sporting dresses every so often in lieu of black corduroys (though this began last summer when it got so damned hot).  I dragged Jill to get pedicures last week (talk about role reversal) -- and picked pink polish!  And finally, I recently bought a skirt -- a tropical gaudy confection in white and pink and green -- and I absolutely adore it.

Erica had to remind me the other day that unlike my all-blacks, I should remember not to wear this skirt on a daily basis -- people might notice.  This was when she came over to trim and dye my hair. Pink(ish).

But there is still a huge part of me that wants to run around in sandals and tropical print skirts with my toes sparkly pink and my hair buzzed close.  Is that really so very strange?