on tuesday noon i sat down and told my hairdresser ‘i want to cut short hair!!’ with a certain glee and excitement at the finality of my statement. been toying with this idea of chopping my hair off for about half a year and finally got down to doing it. he then proceeded to chop off ‘more than two-thirds’ (i’m quoting) of my hair and now i officially can declare that i have short hair!!!! short hair meaning the kind that can’t be tied at all – and not the wimpy shoulder hair ”short” length – and i’m really liking this sense of liberation particularly when it comes to having to wash or comb my hair FUSS FREE
then i realised that i looked like an exact replica of the photo pasted on the fridge and it was like staring at the mirror, seeing the same hairstyle on nearly the same face, just aged and with eye bags.
last night my mom came in peered into my room and told me that i look like her little girl again. which led me to think of how scary the whole thing is: having a baby and watching that baby grow into a fully fledged adult. which is kind of very strange and very beautiful at the same time.