No regrets

That was a year ago. 

I’m glad I cut off all my hairs. 

Feels so much more ME. 

I had my hairs short several years, then after my first MichFest, I decided to stop cutting it and grow it long again. 

I didn’t think that hard about it at the time. I just didn’t get it cut when it was time. Whether we like it or not, failure to make a decision is to make a decision. 

Reflecting, I think I was trying to find out how much of my identity and femininity was in how I presented myself in long hair. The answers are “a LOT” and “meh.”

It mattered a lot to me how others viewed my appearance. I can’t lie to ya; I wanted to cut it off when I took the picture. But I read lots of, “Your hair looks beautiful!” and “Never cut off your hair!” And I liked it. 

But I didn’t like having long hair. It’s a pain to care for (compared to practically a buzz cut) and 95% of the time I just had it pulled back in a ponytail. 

Anyway, I hemmed and hawed and procrastinated and didn’t do it when I really wanted to (which, again, failure to act is a decision in and of itself) because I really enjoyed hearing that others liked the way I looked in long hair. 

In this pic, I was getting ready to go to my third and the last MichFest. A few days before I left, I texted Cathy and said, “Please get out your clippers.” She texted back that she could squeeze me in before I left for Michigan. 

Compared to how much time I vacillated, it was quite quick. She finished and spun me around. And there I was. 

Me again. 

No regrets. 

(BTW, DAMN, I got some shit done that day.)

Author: Dory

Believer. Wife. Mom. Deaf chick. ADD-addled. Photographer. Graphic designer. Blogger. Guano whacknut. Not necessarily in that order.