Wisps of ideas.

My belly dance teacher in Mexico said once, when I got a severe “just the ends” trim, that women often tend to chop off their locks when things got complicated with males in their lives.

I don’t know if that is my case, but a few weeks ago I shaved the back of my head. I mean, I had my awesome stylist do it, don’t think it was a Britney Spears, crazy eyes, DIY thing. It was cool, it’s even. It has a design in it. I’ve got a fade going on, don’t hate.

I don’t know if there is a man in particular that I was cutting off or cutting away from, but I know I felt liberated, watching giant swaths of my hair fall around my shoulders, floating to the floor. I watched dry, fried, bleached out sections of my hair slide down the cape and felt the clippers glide across the back of my scalp.

It gave me shivers. My knees knocked. My knees are knocking as I type this up, just thinking about it.

I did it.

It’s been about two weeks now, since my hair cut and I am constantly running my hands over the short, short hair, at the nape of my neck, thinking about how weightless it feels.

It gifted me something, cutting my hair like that. Recently I ran into a situation that left a VERY bad taste in my mouth, one I am still processing, chewing on like cud, trying to digest it all. I turn it over and over in my head, figuring out the best way to dispose of it, and I just remember my teacher likening cutting off hair as some sort of loss of power to a man.

I am choosing not disclose the situation just yet (or maybe ever…), but as of right now, I am not sure how I feel about the whole thing, but one thing I do know is that I feel complete power of the situation now. I know we often have to push things/people/energy out to bring better things/people/energy in. I know I am a woman who has dignity, I know I am worthy of many things. I know I am flawed, but not deserving of being treated with contempt or disrespect.

Anyway, I run my hands over the back of my head constantly now. I feel that stubble and feel power. I feel that stubble and I want to fight. I feel lightweight, I feel untethered, I feel ethereal, strangely enough.

Maybe subconsciously I was letting go of things, and the hair was the first step.
I can has jipster?

Maybe I am full of shit and am trying to justify this totally cool, totally hipster haircut. Whatever.

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