On Getting Chopped

Warning.  This post is mostly inconsequential and has lots of useless backstory.

So did you know that before Todd was the love of my life, he was my hairdresser/coworker??  I'm sure you did.

Literally, the first day I met Todd - my second day of work. Long hair.

Flash back to 2007.  I'm a 18-year-old frontdesk girl at a fancy salon.  When I started, there were a few whispers of "Oh, my gosh. That's Todd.  He's so cute.  His haircuts are so good it's nuts!" A week or so into working there, I got my first "Pool-ee-oh," as our friend, Joe, calls them. (Sidenote: not the pronunciation of his last name).

Over the next few years, I got a ton of Pool-ee-oh's.  I can't tell if it's because I actually wanted my hair cut, or if I just wanted to be in his chair.  He would do nothing but make fun of my "punky" persona and tell me cold, hard truth.  I would have never believed you if you told me that in a few years, he'd be my fiance.

Todd's favorite haircut.  He still talks about it.  I remember after he was done he said he wanted my head to carry around because he love the cut so much.  Weird?  Maybe.

I remember we became really good friends when we were both going through some tough stuff.  I remember I was supposed to be going on vacation with my then-boyfriend, but stayed behind (we broke up. duh) and came in on one of my scheduled days off to get my hair cut.  I remember that Todd hugged me after that haircut.  I was pretty excited about that.  I know that me made fun of my neon orange shirt and skinny jeans, but I was butterfly-ish in my stomach because - hello - this man is GAWgeous and he just hugged me.  Wasn't I supposed to me mourning a lost relationship?  Nope.  This man loved Jesus and wanted me to be the best "me" I could be. I wanted someone like him.

Right after he cut it that day.  Of course, I had to come home and change and take pictures.  What else is a Myspace Girl to do?

A few months later, we were dating.  It was a wonderful time of growing up and finding myself.

The first night Todd and I hung out - outside of work.  I know he's not in this photo (I'm blocking him, of course), but I love how the cut looks in it.

Getting back to haircuts, I remember he would come to my house (driving 30+ minutes.  Sweet man) and we would sit on my front porch.  I'd pour him a few rum-and-coke's and he'd give me some of the most ballin' haircuts I'd ever had.

Oh, and during these few years, my hair got progressively shorter and shorter - per my request 

Then he left the salon and I got fired.  I was down and out and looking for a job.  I wanted a change! We basically said,"what the heck!" and lopped off my hair.  Boy short.  I rocked it for a few months, and then we started growing it out.

Boy Short. Despite the look on my face, I loved it!

 Fast forward 3.5 years, and here I sit with my hair long-ish.  I love it. It grew so fast when I was pregnant.  It was healthy and shiny and beautiful.

Then I gave birth.  And my hair went on strike.  It seriously hates me. I killed it with a cheap hairdryer.  Last night, Todd literally said to me,  "I have never seen someone ruin their hair like this."

So basically, Todd said we have to start over.  RIP Molly's hair.

I've gone back and forth on it.  I want it long for my wedding, but let's be serious here - I have no clue when that will be.  Short, it shall be.

And thanks for letting me be vain in the sense that I just posted about 47 photos of myself with hair at various lengths and styles.  'Preciate it.  No one reads a post without pictures.  I know you all too well.

Love
M

Oh, and as you can see, I used to think I was really cool and interesting, so I took a lot of pictures of myself. Sorry about that.  Had to come to grips with the fact that ... I'm a nerd.