The last time I sported a short haircut was when I was in second grade. From that time on, I couldn’t live without my long hair.
And now just look at this. This happened two weeks ago.
It was a rather impulsive decision. I just woke up one morning and told my husband I’m cutting my hair for a drastic new look and that I’m giving him my hair for his dreadlocks. And I just went right ahead.
I cannot say how much I had surprised myself in doing such a thing. I actually screamed when the woman with the scissors went for the kill.
For the next few minutes I was an irritating, ADHD manic pixie dream girl trope. I kept on bugging everyone if I looked okay. My husband kept on telling me it’s not just okay, it’s fantastic. I wouldn’t shut up. I cancelled a photoshoot. I pictured out a whole wardrobe change.
Only when my husband and I went back to our lovenest and he started making my lost hair into dreadlocks did I finally let out an honest, hearty laugh and a very, very wide smile.
It was sort of like seeing myself die and having my organs donated to people who need them and saw them benefit from it. (Okay, that was NOT probably the best analogy.)
But on a more personal level, I think it was a lesson in letting go.
That’s what we’re like when we lose something we didn’t know if it’s for the better or for the worse, aren’t we?
Vivien Marie Lopez