I got a hair cut yesterday. I’ve been hankering to chop off my locks for months, despite pretty much everyone I know telling me I shouldn’t. The salon finally called me back this week and I booked my appointment, much to my relief. I sat in the chair yesterday, and watched my hair fall to the floor. I felt better and better with every snip of the hairdressing scissors.
The change was not drastic. I lost maybe three inches of length, tidied all the layers and finally found a hairdresser who actually knows what a side fringe is. But it was enough to make me feel considerably better. And I didn’t even necessarily feel bad, just tired of the same old look. My hair, falling to somewhere around waist length, is the one feature I get complimented on most often. Which, I suppose, is why everyone was so hesitant to see it get hacked off (not that I care overly about other people’s opinions on what I should do with my own hair, mind you). But I’ve been growing it for five years, so for me the change was overdue.
It’s kind of funny how something as small as a haircut can make all the difference to one’s mental state. Now, if I could just lose ten kgs and actually fit into some of my old clothes again, I’d feel heaps better! But either way, a haircut is just the beginning. An overhaul is coming. I need to break free of the cycle of negative I’ve been trapped in for months, and with this new look, I feel I can focus on a new outlook.