A hair raising story


My hair in the glory days...Sigh!

There is some kind of thrill in throwing reason to the winds and doing the unexpected. I specialize in getting into bizarre self-inflicted predicaments. How else can I explain my love for weird hairstyles?!

I derive immense pleasure in chopping my tresses and denuding my kopfe of its glory. First I plastered an ugly brown colour on my hair in the name of streaking and bleached it of its natural colour permanently. Now I have gone one step ahead and bobbitized my lovely curls.

Sure it is a makeover according to my stylist and a few others and yes it looks different (a politer version of weird) but I am left pining for my mane. Gone is the delightful weight of the head, the fuzzy warmth against my neck and the adaa I could throw with a flip of my hair. Sigh and it cost me money too!

Now I do not say there aren’t any advantages of short cropped hair. For one there is definitely a chance of a summer without having to punish one’s hair in ponies and knots to stay alive. Then there is the remote possibility of looking younger than you are ;and if you ask me the latter is reason enough. ;P

Well after all the repenting will I stop short of yet another suicidal haircut? No. Never. After all it is the risks that make life worth living a’int it?! 😀

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