I waited until the last hour of the last day. Everyone said I was surprisingly calm. I didn’t cry, I didn’t scream, I didn’t even have any wine. I just sat there, shrugged my shoulders, and said, “take it off.” I’ve been anticipating it since January and I was ready to have it over with already.
My cousin Kelly did the honors. She is a hair stylist and the only one I trust with my locks. She did a great job and I can honestly say I’m fine with it. In fact, I really like it. Sometimes I even love it.
When Waylon saw me, he stared for 30 seconds and then moved on. Austin did the same, with the obligatory, “It looks really great!”
It seems silly now that this is the month I was dreading the most. I made myself sick over how stupid or ugly or fatface I might look. Get a grip.
On the long night drive home from WVA, a few friends asked for a picture so I took one in the dark with the flash of my phone camera.
I looked like a drunk celebrity, which made me feel pretty rad (not the drunk part, the celebrity part) because it was like looking at a picture of someone else. Someone that might be a little cooler or a little hipper, someone who might not always wear yesterday’s laundry.
The point is it’s nice to feel different, to experience living in someone else’s body for a few minutes. My hair has been long for twenty seven years. TWENTY SEVEN. It was time.
For more details on the 2012 project, click HERE.