Until I was about 18, I tried compromising with it by letting it grow to my butt and held it back with an elastic band. My hair is very plush (described as a fur pelt on more than one occasion), and therefore very heavy when long. It took more than a day for it to dry in those days. The weight of it kept it somewhat managed but a huge pain with which to deal. And, full disclosure, as a short person, not a good look for me.
Then at 18, I had it all cut to what was considered a questionable, yet still generally acceptable, shortness for the time; around 5 inches long.
I was happy to have short hair. The day I cut it I celebrated. I felt better and it was so much easier to wash and dry. But it became free to express itself in whatever way it desired. Stylists shuddered and different cuts were attempted.
Within the year, I cut it down to 3 inches, making me feel even better. But its’ social acceptability rating became very low and it was even more difficult to manage. At this length, my sentient hair made Will Wheaton’s bed head look positively tame.
I fought with my hair daily for about a decade at that length. I would guess that I might have had a “Good Hair Day” about once a year. Getting busier and busier, I had little time for the hair fight, bought a hair trimmer, and buzzed my head.
One of the very best decisions of my life.
Years later, as an experiment, I grew a very long mohawk in the mid-2000's. It was EXTREMELY high maintenance and I mostly kept it in a pony tail. When I performed, I ironed it and let it fall down on the sides of my head. No one could tell that I was mostly bald; even up close.
I became quite done with this after about a year and a half and went back to sheering myself like a sheep, leaving the top 1/2 inch and the sides with stubble.
Even at 1/2 inch, my hair looks longer due to the sheer plushness and the fact that my hair grows straight forward from the follicle. There is no upward “towards the sun” action.
My hair has currently achieved about 2.75 inches length on top, 2 inches on the sides and back, and is a NIGHTMARE.
I hear the whirring of the Wahl calling my name.
