Snip, Snip.

I won't lie and pretend as if I'm the most ballsy female on the planet who decided to make a decision with no contemplation into her psyche and other people's subsequent judgements. I cried, I put it off, I procrastinated. I argued with myself, and others who encouraged me to do it for so long.

When it all came down to it, sat in he chair at the salon, the sound of the scissors ripping through every inch of protein I'd grown and straightened the living daylights out of was therapeutic. Watching as it tumbled down my shoulders and onto the floor, made me wish I had the wherewithal to do it all sooner. The relief was unlike any sort of elation I can describe to you.
Not necessarily the relief that the actual, physical hair was no longer on my head the relief of one less thing to worry about. One less thing that's going to keep me up at night.

A decision I completely went through with and I'm so damn proud of myself for doing it. Something I've wanted to do, and finally just DID.

I wish I could come with you with the typical I found feminism then decided to chop all my hair off, and not shave story but that's not the case...sorry.

I'm writing this after going about a day without sleep, there's no real deep meaning or metaphor to it all. It's just something I wanted to record and talk about. My hair's cut short. For so many years there is absolutely nothing I could imagine hating more on myself than short hair, but I'm in love and just happy I've got supportive people around me who stop me from copping out of everything.
It's been a helluva week.

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