I think I should get a haircut.
I actually really like short hair, but my curiosity and laziness got the better of me. Long hair is pretty, but you can’t dress up your head unless you know how to braid your own head of hair - which I obviously don’t. I’m just thankful that hair grows back, so I could always try different styles, again and again. And not to completely obsess over five hundred days, but “..Since the disintegration of her parents’ marriage she’d only loved two things. The first was her long dark hair. The second was how easily she could cut it off and feel nothing."
I really do feel nothing.
If anything, it feels good to go short. Actually, in most Audrey Hepburn movies I’ve watched with cozy cove, Audrey would cut her hair in times of independence and freedom (Sabrina, Roman Holiday). It was as if the act of shearing her locks was a declaration of breaking the norm, a liberation. She defined herself as her own person, with or without people by her side. I love the brit for that reason alone, although of course, there are so many other reasons to love Audrey Hepburn.
Maybe hair means something else to other people? When I went through marathons with my brother of America’s Next Top Model, there were always a handful of women that would bawl their eyes out over their makeover. Despite it being a couture transformation, models cried and cried as the scissors snipped away.
To me, hair is like rebirth.
But what does it mean to people who can’t bear to have it cut?