A materialistic attachment to my hair

There are two things you should know about my hair:

  1. I love it. It’s been long, flowy and mermaid-like for the past 3 or so years. I’ve held great attachment to it and really developed a materialistic idealisation of it and its length.
  2. I like changing my hair when I go through some pretty big life changes. For example, last year when I had my ‘epiphany’, and went through that stage of my life, I dyed it bright purple.

Thus it was only fitting that when I moved up here I thought I really should do something drastic again. I still have some purple hair dye left over that I was going to put in my hair…but I wasn’t too sure about how my work would react to that. And, I also didn’t really want that kind of attention right at this point in time.

As a result, I chopped it all off. Okay, well not ALL of it, but when you have long, mermaid hair that flows down to your boobs, getting it cut short up to your shoulders, feels like it’s pretty much all gone. The weird part is that I didn’t even feel sad that I was losing all my hair that I had such an attachment to. I mean, it’s a good thing that I didn’t feel that way, but it was just weird, because the last time I was thinking about the length of my hair – only a few months ago – I was thinking about how much I loved how long it was and that no one would take any length off at all if I wanted a trim to tidy the ends up!

Now, it’s very tidy, and much healthier after getting rid of copious amounts of split ends – and, much easier to manage.

So, as my new life is in full swing, I thought it was only appropriate to chop the old locks off, and make way for the new. Goodbye ratty Melbourne hair; Goodbye ratty Melbourne life. (Not that my life was “ratty” perse, but it’s time I moved on from that time of my life, and start embracing a new look to match my newfound pathway in this glorious life.)

Happy fucking Sunday night peeps!


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