the locs are gone.
i only cried twice. more of a release than grieving.
i've probably been grieving for months anyway. this season has been full of challenges, ups, downs and inbetweens.
of course, a haircut doesn't fix your life. but what it can do and/or symbolize is a certain measure of control over your situation. and many of you know that, as african women, our hair is never just our hair.
there's a definite feeling of nudity. this is the first time in my life i haven't had a full head of hair to hide behind. by the time i started my locs, i had an angie davis 'fro. the two-strands reached to my chin, so i still had enough to play with.
i'm on the longer end of a twa, but there won't be any ponytails any time soon.
i look at myself now and see all the things i've always been wary of: the smallness and asymmetry of my eyes. my nose. the childhood cheeks that never quite faded away.
but there are benefits. shorter shampoos. fist-bearing afro picks! humectants. easier scalp massages. the texture of my own curves and curls. getting to know my face again. an excuse to buy new, superbly fly earrings ('cause she says so. lol).
my head's even shaped better than i thought.
i don't have a choice but to be confident.
so. here goes nothing.