Nebulous Mooch

I’ve decided to let my hair grow out. I’ve always wanted long hair. When I was a little girl I’d put a bath towel over my head and pretend it was my long hair. I’d flip it this was and that and say things like, “Don’t you love my beautiful long hair?”

I normally keep my hair cut to just about jaw length, but once every couple of years I decide to grow it long.  That’s how long it takes me to forget what happened the last time I tried to grow my hair long. It gets bigger not longer.

In this badly taken picture (I’m yet to master the art of photographing myself) my hair doesn’t look much longer than it was when I first moved to the UK. But if I stretch my hair out….

…it’s well past my shoulders. See. See. I told you it’s grown.

If I continue to let it grow, it’ll just get bigger and bigger until I become the woman no one wants to sit behind in the movie theater.  The idea of that used to make me feel really self-conscious, but now I don’t care. I’m ready to be that woman. I don’t like it when people sit behind me in the movie theater anyway. They always kick the back of my seat.

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