growing pains

Buzzing my hair got something out of my system that's been needing to go for a long time. Because while I generally have been under the impression that these past years of short hair have not been a rebellion of any kind, maybe, just a little bit, I was still suspicious of appearances. Or rather, the sometimes terrible fact of life that we treat others differently based on appearances. I perhaps have been nursing a wee chip on my shoulder. Although I never cut my hair in a defiant gesture against society, I clung to it from time to time.


I can't really think of good illustrative examples of this, but listen to a few twee songs and you'll get this. Especially if you can get ahold of Marine Girls' eponymous song or maybe even something Sleater Kinney or Shop Assistants.


But I feel less worried now, more relaxed, for a few reasons:


1. I did something I've always wanted to which happens to be something that, in the words of an old doc professor, "pushes the envelope," or in the words of my dear dad, is "excessive but will do for now."


2. For the past few weeks and probably for a few weeks to come I look in the mirror––I've told all of you this before, but I look in the mirror and think "HEDGEHOG! but what an adorable hedgehog you are."


3. I have decided I like my face. Which is something that makes me very happy.


I even think I may pay someone to cut my hair once it's a cut-able length.