I never thought much about my hair throughout my life. It was wavy, sometimes frizzy, cowlick in my bangs, and a brown too dark to be mousy. 

Almost 10 years ago I became very ill for approximately a year. I suffered extreme malnutrition, and my hair fell out. Although I was dealing with many tangible, life-threatening health issues, losing my hair was a trauma that stung me deeply.

Luckily, I guess, I found out that I look pretty good with short hair. My natural waves became sassy curls, and my hair close to the root broke out into a million natural highlights.

Because it was unasked for, I immediately vowed to grow my hair long again. And I did. But I missed the short hair with its freedom and personality.

I told myself that single women my age shouldn’t cut their hair until they get married. No, I wasn’t told that growing up, no, I’m not from a 1950′s Good Housekeeping article, but for some reason I felt like it was a deep truth of nature. 

But now I’m ready. I want short hair. It will be my decision. It won’t fall out in clumps in my hand, but it will be cut with the caring hands of my stylist. It’s what I want, and it is for me.