half done

    Tonight I’m meeting a friend for dinner or just to catch up. I want to look nice, so I decided to straighten my hair. I opened my drawer full of hair products, heated up my straightening iron, pulled out my hair spray, and actually managed to get through about half my hair before just absolutely bursting into tears in front of my mirror.

    I don’t want to lose my hair. I really really really don’t want to. I’ve had long hair as long as I can remember. It’s thick, it’s sexy, it’s shiny, and it’s the only aspect of my appearance that I’ve always liked, from a kid through the awkward chubby pimply teenage years to now. There’s a satisfaction to doing my hair. It’s a daily ritual, figuring out what to do with it.  I can toss it in a braid and forget about it, or take the time to tame this frizzy wild mane into soft smooth layers. It’s my go-to thing when I want to look pretty, or desirable, or put-together…. And just a few weeks from now I won’t have that anymore.

   This isn’t just about vanity. It’s not that I am worried that I’ll be ugly or undesirable without my hair; actually, I think I’ll rock it pretty awesomely. I just don’t WANT to, and no one is giving me that choice.

and so I took a picture

   I think I’m gonna go cry a while.