Something’s Changed & It Isn’t My Hair

10 Jun

Usually whenever I’m down and out and kind of feeling lousy, I find it in myself to go through a mental and sometimes physical makeover. I’ve been on this super health kick that I’m proud to say I’ve been going strong. Though I have my very weak moments and cave in to cravings, I still hold my own. I haven’t cared this much about my health in forever and I’m so happy that I care this much now that I see how detrimental all those years of putting that waste in me was a bad move.

On another topic kind of related..whenever I was kind of feeling depressed or going through a breakthrough or breakdown, either one I can’t tell you how many of the two I’ve had..I always changed something or shed something and it was usually my hair. Call it a liberating moment for me to rid my hair as though I was ridding myself of bad moments or painful expressions in time that I didn’t want to repeat. It’s become a form of habit for me to want to cut my hair every time I’m sort of “going through something.” Be it good, bad, ups and downs. Mostly.. downs. But the downs for me, usually turn to ups rather quickly and in a way that with short hair or a new hair style it gives me the sort of confidence and esteem I had been lacking when I was down in the dumps. It’s awkward that vanity can sometimes do that to you, but it does.

I remember that a casual friend in high school once told me in the bathroom that she would wear makeup even on days when she was sick, solely to make her self feel better. It was a mind over matter thing to her and I’ve kind of lived on that same kind of motto, too. People who know me well know that I smile often and the smile is genuine, don’t get me wrong. I smile because I am, for the most part happy. But behind a smile there is always hurt and pain. Now that’s the truth.

I’m not sure that I want to cut my hair anymore because it’s taking a VERY long time to grow back this time. My hair used to be down to the crack of my butt (I wish I was kidding here, but I’m not) and it was my weapon of choice. I could literally smack you with it, that’s how long it was. I miss my long locks of love so very much! I’m resisting taking a scissor to my mane all for the sake of feeling that liberation again. Maybe I’ll just go and get a trim. Sometimes that does the deed for me. Now if only I could find a new hairstylist.


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