BLOG: HIP-HIP HOORAY

Long time, no write. Sorry I’ve been a hair slow at keeping this blog updated.

Nine months ago I decided to embark upon a hair adventure to document the pixie grow-out process — through the good, the bad, and the downright ugly.

Over the course of the 2012-13 school year, I blogged about my hair-related trials and tribulations, as I attempted to pull off the pixie grow-out in the least awkward way possible, the end goal being just-shorter-than-shoulder-length hair in time for my spring commencement.

I did it! Let me break it down for you:

Stage 1: “The Mia Farrow”

Simply put, this cut inspired by actress Mia Farrow circa “Rosemary’s Baby,” was cute and manageable and everything else a good pixie cut should be.

On Aug. 15 I received my last Farrow-inspired haircut and the grow-out challenge began.

Six weeks later, in late September I surpassed my typical ‘hey-its-been-six-weeks’ pixie maintenance cut — entering the ‘Mullet Danger Zone’ as well as simultaneously entering Stage 2: “The Bieber Bob”.

Named after the teen-heartthrob-pop-superstar, Justin Bieber, this luscious ‘do’ was equipped with side sweeping bangs ideal for head bobbing, making teenage girls melt and the root of a lifelong, bang-flipping twitch. I was not as big of a “Belieber” in this hairstyle as the Biebs himself was.

In late October/early November, I entered Stage 3: “The Beatles Circa 1960s-Mop-Top-Shag-Do.”

This stage screamed “Help! I need somebody! Help! Not just anybody” — a hairdresser. In addition to the bangin’ Bieber-esque bangs, this look featured Lennon-esque length in the back.

Inevitably, I surpassed the ‘Mullet Danger Zone’ and became a full-fledged mullet-sporter. As my mane grew out from a pixie, the shorter region above my ears had to grow much longer in order to catch up to the Billy Ray Cyrus-like tail that was cascading down my neck. I had an “Achy Breaky Heart” about it for quite a while. Luckily, I had a good friend with the guts to tell me when I looked like I belonged at a Kid Rock concert yelling, “Free Bird!,” who ever so graciously trimmed the mullet for me.

In early December, the fourth month of the journey, I decided to modify my original five-stage process. Between Stage 3: “The Beatles Circa 1960s-Mop-Top-Shag-Do”, and Stage 4: “The ‘No Country for Old Men’, creepy-as-all-hell, Javier Bardem (as Anton Chigurh) Bowl Cut” I added “The Hillary Rodham Clinton.”

The new Stage 4 spot, was characterized by more tame back length and voluminous, feathered side-sweeping bangs that epitomize the slang term, bangin’.

Over winter break I had my second mullet trimming, and by the time late January rolled around I decided it was time to get my first real shaping haircut since mid-August. The shaping haircut meant cutting my hair to a uniform length.

On Feb. 1 I got the shaping haircut. The result: A simple bob that hung just below my ears. I kind of avoided Stage 5: “The creepy-as-all-hell, Javier Bardem (as Anton Chigurh) Bowl Cut!” But then again, now that I look back at the photos, the resemblance is uncannily eerie.

I think I “avoided” this single most awkward stage solely because I am female — bobs look less peculiar on women. Javier Bardem as Anton Chigurh in “No Country for Old Men” is proof of this statement.

From February on (in Stage 5: “The creepy-as-all-hell, Javier Bardem (as Anton Chigurh) Bowl Cut!”/ Stage 6: “Normalcy, sweet normalcy) I watched my hair grow longer and longer (which is a lot like watching paint dry, aka, why I have not written since then.)

Check out the following photo taken in late March. Look at that progress!

As hoped, I will have a bob at just-shorter-than-shoulder-length in time for my spring commencement. And just recently (early April) my hair reached a length capable/worthy of half ponytail-dom, just in time for intramural volleyball season!

Things are looking up. Soon I will be able to put my hair into a full-fledged ponytail. And then who knows, maybe I will cut it all off and do it all over again! As they say, “Hair today, gone tomorrow,” or something like that.

Emma