Everyday I battle myself on one issue; my hair. I look in the mirror and smile because I think that I am the most beautiful girl ever (Yes, I said that out loud) – (My mirror tells me these things) – (Okay, not ever but you get the point) and I pride myself on how the perfect match between shampoo and mane can give silky bouncy results and then I want to chop that silky and bouncy black waterfall till it don’t waterfall anymore.
Yes, I want to cut my hair really really short, a mix between Anne Hathaway in Les Miser- I can’t pronounce and Amy Adams in Julie and Julia kind of short; Yes, I mean no, I am not transitioning into a boy. I wear heels. Sometimes.
Now what you might not realise is how serious I am. This isn’t a whim, this is life and one appointment could change it. And to the cautions of many that my stubborn self does not pay attention to, I shall make my decision, eventually. Soon. Sometime in the near future.
A frivolous topic to post about? Few might agree. Few. But messing with your hair can be highly consequential though. So you see how my debate goes. One minute I’m flipping my hair because hey it’s long and what else do you do with long hair and the other minute I’m flipping it to tuck it into a bun to see how it would look if I really were to grow some … guts and cut it. So long or short? Divergent. Traumatising for indecisive people like me.
I don’t just think this is a play between chopper instincts and love for length. I have this thing with hair, some sort of artistic attention it gets in literary description that draws me to it so much so that I had to blog about it. Definitely, a break from my usual but I had to.
So, now that I have. Overly indecisive and out.
Very, very sincerely