So long, farewell, adi-do-da-da dee-ee

Today I’m going to chop off my hair six inches.

It’s been three inches below my collar bone for years now and it’s time.

Some people tend to chop it off when they go away to college. Some when they (finally) graduate college. And others, like me, when they feel a change coming.

I did not instigate this. I would never. My agent did. But unlike instances before this when someone has made the suggestion, I didn’t cower away in disgust. I thought wholeheartedly about it. Considered the pros and cons, as I am one to do, and agreed. It needs to come off.

It needs to come off because I feel confident in me now.

Before my hair was a sanctuary that I hid behind. Yes I smile nice, my lips are full and I have nice skin. But my hips are baby baring and my boobs could be bigger.  So I had my hair. It’s a perfect combination of not too long or short, not too thick or thin. It’s a great head of hair. It takes color well and will adjust to any style willingly so I was confident in it when sometimes that pimple just couldn’t be covered up or that fever blister just wouldn’t go away. My hair had my back, literally and figuratively.

But I don’t need it anymore. I like my hips and my proportionate boobs. I like the way I can wear a pencil skirt like they are suppose to be worn and that I am actively preventing pimples and fever blisters at all times simply by not worrying about them.

According to my agent it will square out my jaw and broaden my shoulders (which evidently are excellent napping shoulders for friends but horrible sloping slopes for clothes to hang on).


I don’t need it. I don’t want it.

It’s coming off today. I might lose my job because the salon is going to take forever, I just know it. But hey, live life. Lose your job,  you can find another one. Cut your hair, it’ll grow back.

My short hair will be me just as much as my long hair has been. And heck, I can always fall back on the fact that I have an awesome guy that loves me no matter what length my hair is,  though he constantly asks me to go brunette. Which is just blasphemy.