My Hair Is a Story. I Kept the Part About the Girl with a Backbone.

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Somewhere around 2009, I decided to grow my hair out. To be 100% honest, as I always am on this blog, I decided to grow my hair because I thought I would be getting married in the next few years. Boy, did I miss the mark on that one (but found my Mark three years later ... wow, that was a cheesy pun).

You have to know that the decision for me to grow my hair wasn't an easy one. I've always been the girl that loves to change her hair. Whether it be length or color, my hair was never the same for more than a few months. It's been hot pink, black, blonde, ginger red, bright red, various shades of brown, highlighted (caramel, blonde, red) and ombre.

I get a thrill out of changing my hair. It's an easy way to change your appearance without having to do something permanent, since it will always grow back! Plus, I kind of like that little bit of fear I feel when my hair is covered in foils or when the hair dresser is snipping off pieces of hair and I have no idea how the final look will turn out. I have been lucky in my life that I have never had a bad hair cut or a dye job I didn't like.

Back to my hair being full of choices. Last night, after growing my hair almost five years, I chopped a good chunk of it off. Part of it was for practicality—my hair was damaged from heat styling and needed to be cut. Part of it was for convenience—summer is coming and long, thick hair is hot and heavy. But another part of it was because when I looked at the ends of my hair I was reminded of a different me.

This me. The girl that grew her hair out because she thought her deadbeat boyfriend was one day going to save up his Starbucks-earned pennies and buy her a diamond.

Moving up a little bit past the ends is the girl that spent too long worrying about when the right guy would come long.

The post-breakup girl that was paranoid she would be alone forever, but still enjoyed the plethora of dates that came her way through the online dating world.

Somewhere in the upper middle of my hair, the part that I kept, is the girl who got a backbone. The girl that found the love of her live and the girl that made the choice to jump headfirst into creating a life with the man of her dreams.

When I looked at my long hair, I looked at it as telling a story. It may seem silly, or stupid, but cutting it off was liberating. I felt like the old bits were now gone, and I was well on my way to shiny, happy (and good hair) future. I asked some of my readers on Facebook and Twitter to weigh in on hair and the general consensus was that drastic hair changes go hand-in-hand with big life changes.

 

Whether you see hair cuts as psychological or purely superficial, I can't help but feel little lighter today and not just because my hair is shorter.

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