As a kid, I mostly sported short hair.

My mom has had the same hair style since shortly after getting married, so she’s never been one to make much of a fuss over her hair or my hair.

I, on the other hand, have always fussed over my hair – no matter the length.

I never wore my bangs where they were “supposed to be” as a preschooler. In grade school, I absolutely refused to wear the same hair-do two days in a row. My mother’s happiest day of my fourth grade year, was when I learned to french braid and curl my own hair. In high school, I would bring pictures of Jennifer Aniston to our family friend on a monthly basis, and ask her to replicate the hair style on my cowlick-ridden, thick hair.

Because of my “need” to always mix things up, I have never had the patience to grow my hair very long.


My bangs were ALWAYS brushed to the side. L to R: My brother Brian, me, Dad, Grandpa


Sportin’ hair that isn’t much longer than my brother’s.


Starting to wear some curls.


Keeping the curls and letting the back grow long. Kids, we call this a “mullet.” L to R: me, my dad, Brian, my mother and her 40-year-old hairstyle. God bless her.


Shoulder-length hair with a perm.

I can remember, as a little girl, my brother and I would play imaginary games. No matter what we were playing (house, G.I. Joes, Power Rangers, X-men, etc.) I always asked Brian if 1.) I could change my name, and 2.) we could pretend that my hair was longer – down to the middle of my back.

Brian hated it when I would want to change my name. He could never remember what my new name was, and he’d get frustrated by my choices (“Petunia Rose” comes to mind). As it goes with big brothers, he was the self-appointed boss of our games, so he came up with a rule that I had to choose one; I could either change my name OR I could have pretend, long hair.

He knew me well, and I always chose long hair. Obviously, imaginary flowing locks were more important than a new name (which might have actually had SOME impact on the game). It no longer mattered if my name remained the same, I had long, beautiful hair. My hair cascaded down over my shoulders and to the middle of my back.

I distinctly remember doing imaginary hair flips and running my fingers through the invisible strands while Brian (obviously THE GI Joe) would single-handedly save our country from some national catastrophe.


Brian and I with my “new” car just a month before I went to college.

Chance has always liked long hair, so when I met him (the first day of college) I vowed not to cut my hair for a long while.


One month after meeting Chance.



Because the growing-out process is tedious, I used to have college friends perm my hair for me. L to R: me, Amariah, Joanna (my college roommates)

I stayed true to my word, and didn’t cut my hair until after we were married.


At the time of our wedding, my hair was down to my shoulder blades.


Then, I knew I had secured the man I wanted forever, so I cut my hair off just a few weeks after our honeymoon.



Our first Christmas as a married couple.

My hair seemed to get shorter and shorter until we met Nasko in 2011.



Following that visit, I decided it would be easiest to have hair that was long enough for a ponytail, especially as a new mom of such a crazy kid.


My hair was not quite long enough for that ponytail when Nasko came home.


Staying true to my need to mix it up, I was able to pull it into tiny pigtails and throw on a hat though.

I continued to grow my hair through Louis’ pregnancy…


My hair was shoulder-length again at thirteen weeks pregnant with Louis.

…and, over the past year and a half.


Despite all these months of growing out my hair and the lack of haircuts I’ve had in the past three years, I was very surprised at my hair’s length about a month ago when Chance took this picture:


I think I can now safely proclaim that I have reached the status of having “long hair”.

So Brian, I’d like to be called “Henrietta Josephine.” Thank you very much.


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