Hair-py Endings

Most of us go, “What the Hell Was She Thinking” when Britney Spears did a G.I. Jane and shaved her head. Bald, yes, BALD. Goodness gracious me!
She must have lost her marbles, along with her sense of style. Not that she had much sense to begin with.

Truth is, cutting one’s hair can be a very liberating experience.
Of course, going skinhead is a tad too extreme. But snipping off our locks can be a therapeutic treatment for weary souls.

I cut my long hair recently. A proper cut is overdue for my tresses and I decided to do it anyhow at the neighbourhood salon. No appointments, no advance selection of style.
My request was simple: Cut it off. Make it shoulder length. Layer it.

No dye job. It was “Black to Basics” for me. Black is my hair, so black it shall be. I am going au naturel. Back to my roots—literally.
As I sat in the chair listening to the snipping of the scissors, watching my locks fall to the floor, I felt wonderfully relieved.
For some reason unbeknownst to me, my happiness quotient increased with every inch taken away. Silently, I was willing the hairdresser’s fingers to chop off more inches. Strangely, an inner madness consumed me and I almost wanted to tell him to go “all the way” to give me a short bob. Fortunately, I did not articulate my thoughts.

I emerged from the salon 30 minutes later feeling lightheaded and walked home with a spring in my step. Off with my heavy mane. The wind played with the layers as I skipped along and I toyed with the idea of going shorter on my next visit.

Shorter, more carefree! Guess the previous style was way too long for me! =P