today i cut off the rest of my hair. the highlights are gone, as are, perhaps, any traces of my personality. shari called me her most brave client. i said it's a razor thin line between brave and crazy. she insists i didn't cross it - i'm not so sure. but i'm not sure i give a shit, either. this simple mousey brown helmet will soon be a mess-o-curls once more. the 'do ain't so short that i'll get mistaken for a chemo patient, but not too long that it looks like the unfortunate result of some kind of scissor-wielding self-inflicted rage. whatever. maybe i just wasn't enjoying the confused, misguided bedfro. maybe i just...

someone suggested recently that i'm obsessed with my hair, and i balked on the inside. not because i'm the least superficial person i know, but because the notion is so off-mark. if obsession indeed be at play here, maybe it has to do with wanting to feel something different. feel something. what is this feeling, anyways?


Blogger Audra Williams said...

When I'm super freaked out, I cut my OWN hair. Which sometimes goes very well and other times not so much.

I love your new haircut, frankly.

2:55 p.m.  

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