I know I promised you guys a bunch of birthday related posts (and I did you fun things on my birthday, like having cake and flying to Poland, and being celebrated by my closest friends a couple days later), but this one is going to be different.

 

Today I chopped about 20 cm off my hair. Pointless, you might think, because you can't actually see my hair, but I love my hair (even though you're not supposed to say you love something about yourself because that makes you seem vain, which is weird, but that's another discussion). I drove to the hairdresser after lab today and sat on that dreadful chair, showed her a picture, told her to go shorter and she chopped it. I mean it's not her fault because I, being my controlling self, told her exactly how I wanted it. 

 

You know how it feels when she asks you what you think and you automatically reply "I love it, it's perfect", and you walk out, go home, try to straighten the **** out of it and it makes you happy that it looks 0,5 cm longer? Well, it's either that or you literally start crying. Thankfully it hasn't happened to me since I last dyed my hair, pretended to love it, but eventually went (sobbing) back to the hairdresser because my hair was yellow.

 

Reflecting upon my choice of completely chopping it off, it is because I was in need of change (as I've written in a post a couple of months ago). I just wasn't realizing it until I was back home with 20 cm shorter hair.

 

In the end, hair is just hair. It will grow back. 

xox,

Laila