It's been far too long since I let my hair down.
I got a taste of it when I was in San Francisco my last day. My friend Whitney and I walked from Fisherman's Wharf across the Golden Gate Bridge (nearly five miles) and it was a bit chilly by the water, so I let my long hair down.
It not only provided me immense warmth and protection from the wind, but I felt freed from months and months of buns and ponytails.
Don't get me wrong, I love me some big buns, but nothing beats the feeling at the end of the day when I take that pony out and let my long hair sashay across my back. Pair that with the unclipping of my bra and I am a happy woman.
But then I got to thinking about possibly chopping it all off and donating it before my big move.
New city, new look.
That thought didn't last long.
First of all, I love my mermaid hair. Ever since I heard Ed Sheeran so sweetly singing about a long-haired lover, "And you should never cut your hair cause I love the way you flip it off your shoulders..." and ever since I first watched in awe as Catherine Zeta Jones’ luscious locks were the only covering remaining after Zorro’s chop chop, I kept my hair long.
What deterred me most from cutting my hair though was the mentality of me becoming somenone "new." Sure, I know I'm about to enter a foreign world, a future full of uncertainty and adulting, and there will be some major change for sure, but I'll remain the same woman, just grown up a little.
My long hair isn’t my whole identity, but it’s something I really love about myself and I want to move to California confident and strong, and call it a security blanket (or a literal blanket on those cold San Fransciscan days), but it’s staying!
Plus, it’s part of who I am, this tall exotic creature who struts down manestreet with her long hair blowing in the wind.
One could almost say it’s part of my... hairitage.
