Now, That's Love

Short and sassy was what I was yesterday. Today, I am this:

There were still some really straight ends, I discovered as I was playing with my hair yesterday. They looked fried and unhealthy. The roots looked great...so, when I got home I implored hubby. Out came his trusty clippers and he, luckily, found a 1/2" guard (otherwise, I would be even cleaner than this). Buzz, buzz...clip, clip. All the hair to the floor. At least 2 to 3 more inches. Man, you don't realize how much hair you have until it's all on the floor. Mister, "I hate short hair," even cleaned up my edges for me. He kept looking at me, but he wasn't shaking his head as you might expect. Starring and starring. Maybe realizing that beauty doesn't come from one's face or hair, but from somewhere deep inside. I'm sure he already knew this, but I could see the facts laying themselves out all over his expressions. What a guy.

It feels good...light and airy. I'd say it was a freeing experience. I'm nervous again for the second time this week on reactions, but much more comfortable with how I'm feeling about it. It will grow back healthy and strong. It will be all me and not some fabricated, European idea of how I'm supposed to look. My African, German, East Indian, Irish and Native American heritage all over me...my face and my hair.

(Now, I will search for my India Arie copy of I Am Not My Hair and blast it from my car this morning.)