Shock horror! Or hooray?
To those who know me, my hair was always my most distinguishable feature. I would get comments and questions on a daily basis about how long it was, how long I took to wash it and (bizarrely) if it got in the way when I went to the toilet. So yes, I have had very very long hair for as long as I can remember and it had always been hanging down the sides of my face, covering my back like some sort of security blanket.
Until last weekend when I cut it! Off!
The final straw came this winter when I couldn't wear a scarf without ending up with a matted nest at the back of my neck. Then having to spend half an hour trying to carefully tease the knots out every evening. Only to wake up in the morning and de-tangle it all over again!
I had fallen out of love with it completely. In fact more often than not I felt me and my barnet were at war with each other. It had been a long time coming, but I was totally chicken. The day I got it cut I was a ball of nerves, but as soon as the scissors sliced through the first section I felt fine. It didn't hurt, in fact it was extremely liberating. I walked out of the hairdressers suddenly feeling more confident, realising my hair represented a person I no longer was. It had been there throughout relationships, heartbreak, university, teenage years, mistakes and awkward steps into adulthood. Now at 25 it was time to look towards the new.
I found the best local hair dresser I could by reading as many reviews as possible and settled upon Cuttlefish in Brighton's North Laines. Apart from the fact it was oozing cool from every orifice (my hairdresser looked like Robert Smith) with very good music taste, they did a very good haircut!