When I was a child, I was not allowed to grow my hair. I hated that. Though I wasnt aware of extentions (weave, extensions for braids and such) yet, I wanted my hair long. I'd wished that my parents would let me braid my hair. They did for a few years, and then I was entrusted into the barber's chair again.
Then I moved to Canada, and was allowed to experiement with weave. I could never get it right. I hated it.
And the desire to be... different, haunted me.
So, I walked into the barber's shop once. I was 16.
I walked in, said these words
"Can you give me a hair cut? Cut it all... leave an inch"
And that was it.
The next few days were dreadful and exhilirating.
I was made fun of, but I loved it. I did.
Something about being told that I look silly, makes me feel SOOOO good!
Must be the Aquarius in me.
Anyway, I've been cutting and shaving and experimenting EVER since.
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