chop.

when in doubt, i cut my hair.

this week has been full of things i can't control, full of seconds that swirl around me like dervishes, filled with all-things nervous and anxious and upset.

you will often find me in moments like this moving furniture around. rearranging books. working on some long-forgotten knitting project.

if this time also coincides with the bit of me that feels old-ish, unpretty-ish, unattractive-ish, then you will find me contemplating cutting my hair.

i don't actually go through with it each time the mood strikes me. a good friend once told me to ride out the wave of hair-change-longing, just to see what was really at the root of the craving. usually it was mired in self-doubt, loathing. not being able to see past the ugly and rely on the pretty that always lives in me.

sometimes, though, a haircut is the only thing to get me through my cloudy head that is filled with naughtiness. you know, being bad to myself in the way that only i can.

and the risk of a haircut (bad, loss of cool status, look like a mom) is worth the possibility of walking out of the door with a clear mind and a new outlook.

the weight of me, just lifted. scissored away for a bit.