Mom Warned Me: Cutting My Hair Will Make My Nose Look Big
My hair does not define me, but it is a form of self-expression
As a little girl, I had long hair that fell to the middle of my back.
My mom and I spent countless hours in a tug of war — her trying to hold me down to comb it and me trying to get away while screaming as loudly as possible about the injustice of her brutality.
We struggled together year after year, and many childhood memories include a tangle of long, matted hair. From lice scares to mopping vomit from its ends, my hair was always there, resting over my shoulders as a part of me.
I never thought much about it, it was just always there.
Until middle school when I had a sleepover with a few friends. It was then that I realized the power that hair has as a part of our identity.
It took only a few minutes and a pair of semi-sharp shears and I went from having long locks that brushed over my shoulder blades to an uneven, shoulder-length bob; those shears changed my life forever.
