Been craving a haircut for months now. I had hoped to learn a new relationship with my hair. I wanted to channel my mother with her flowing braids. And part of me has definitely wanted to please those boys who've coaxed me towards long locks.
Hair is... paradox! A source of beauty and strength and a veil for insecurities... a cause for anxiety and regret. Gorgeous in a coif, gag-inducing in a salad. Tied to our emotions, pasts and self-image. What does our hair hold on to?
Until I was 17 I wore mine (long and fluffy) in a bun, struggling to contain it's mass. I shaved it off with giddy excitement and found a new peace with myself. And then I got curious, 10 years later have I changed in ways that I don't yet know? Could I be a new long-haired me? I am once again annoyed and dismayed by it's weight, heat and unruliness. How do we know when discomfort is growing or limiting? At this point I am at a crossroads between embracing who I think I am and pushing on towards the unknown. Silly stuff. xo