So, I lost the Toilet Paper contest, which means I lost my long hair. And people, let me tell you, it’s s-h-o-r-t. Not as short as it could be, but shorter than I pictured.
My sister put my hair back in a ponytail, I agreed to the amount to be cut off and she chopped it off. The week after, I went to a hairstylist and she cut even more off (in an effort to even it out and style it). I definitely lost more than the 6 inches I had originally agreed to. It was my decision though.
I like it.
I’m still learning how to style it. (Sometimes I feel like a 13-year-old girl just starting to take an interest in her appearance and playing around with different looks.)
It’s so much easier to work with. What used to take me 20 minutes now takes 5 minutes.
Phinehas doesn’t pull it. It’s much easier to keep out of his reach!
But I’m growing it back out. Slowly, but surely. Day by day. Why? My husband doesn’t care for it. And his preferences is more important than a little convenience for me.
I knew going into this whole process that Jeff prefers me with long hair. I’ve even written about it. I also had his blessing to do the competition and to lose my long hair. We’re both totally fine with the decision. Here’s the reality: you can be fine with the decision and still not like the result. You can be convinced that you did the right thing. You can be sure that you did a good thing. But you can still not like the effects.
And that’s where we’re at. My growing my hair back out isn’t a “submission” thing – it’s a “wanting to please my husband when I can” thing. It’s a “he doesn’t grow a beard because he knows my preferences, so I can be considerate of him too” thing. That’s a big part of marriage – pleasing your spouse when it’s possible to do so.
Maybe by this time next year, my locks will be lots longer!