little me, age 8-ish
When I was young I had very long hair. To my ass long.
It was the mainstay of my identity: I was the girl with the long red hair. (Also, the freckles.)
Sometime in my early 20s I cut it, and have been in an endlessly repeating cycle of cutting, growing, cutting, growing ever since. Ad fucking nauseum.
Most recently I spent an entire year growing it out. Then I got a bug up my ass (because "a wild hair" would be too obvious here) and cut it all off. Again. I loved it for about a week. Now I'm growing it out. AGAIN.
And the reason I want long hair at all? So I can wear it up.
I know. But there it is.
|Me, on Berneray, Scotland 2010|
mouse over images for source