From the time I was a little girl I wanted long hair. My mother, however, had a different opinion for the length of my tresses. I was to have short hair. That was all there was to it! (She even took me to a barber for my haircuts because he was cheaper than beauty shop visits.) As I got older—in my teens—my hair stayed short because I had been thoroughly indoctrinated with the belief that I only looked good in short hair. As I envied my classmates with long hair, I dutifully kept hair appointments and watched the scissors taking inches of my hair. Someday, I thought.

Finally when I was on my own and in my 20’s, I began to grow out my hair. My mother thought I needed a haircut, but I prevailed. It got longer and longer and I began to get a feeling akin to beautiful. I loved when the wind blew my hair; when it covered my pillow; when I could gather it up into a perky ponytail. I could flip it around when I was flirting with men. I could act playfully when I styled it into braids or two ponytails. I was happy.

Then fate intervened. My hair began to prematurely turn grey. I needed to color it to assure that others saw me as a young woman, which I was. Because my hair was long, it was expensive to get a color treatment at the salon. I decided to do it myself with a minimum of two boxes of hair coloring. No matter how thorough I was when applying the dye, I always missed some spots. My long hair became shoulder length. By the time I got married at a month-shy of 33, my hair was short again. Now I only needed one box of hair coloring.

Three kids in five years kept my hair short and color treatments a thing of the past. I was almost all grey, really white, and short hair looked the best on me, so said my mother. “And you should color your hair,” she added. My color-treated, short-haired sisters agreed.

Then I reached my 50’s. Time for a new look. Forget the “short helmet” style popular with so many senior women. A bob became my hairstyle for this decade.

Now in my 60’s and with the realization that I can and should do what I want, my hair is long again—all white and almost to my shoulders. (And I plan to grow it even longer.) My long hair makes me feel beautiful. My husband thinks it looks beautiful. Strangers tell me it’s beautiful. After years of doing hair the hard way, I know I’ve made the best choice for me!