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Do you want to know something crazy? I haven’t cut my hair for over 2 years. Actually, correction, I haven’t had my hair cut by a hairdresser in over 2 years. I’ve just let it grow and grow over the past two years while I’ve been abroad. I did the occasional trim with a pair of scissors and let a friend go to town on my bangs (surprising, they turned out okay – see below and ignore the sleepy looking me in that selfie. Focus on the hair).
I’m rather fond of my super long hair. But the real reason why I grew it out was because I was too scared to go and get it cut while I was in Hungary.
My hair has always been a big part of who I am. Growing up dancing, I always had long hair which would be pulled back into a bun for class or stylized into various elaborate hairstyles for performances or competitions. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had long hair. Cutting my hair happened once or twice a year. Usually right before Chinese New Year as is customary. And if I was ever cutting a large portion off, it would be a traumatizing experience. Yes, I know it is just hair and that it’ll grow back (rather quickly too it seems), but when it comes to parting with it, I really don’t want to.
So, when I was in Hungary, I was too chicken to try and get my hair cut by someone that I couldn’t communicate with. I knew simple words in Hungarian, but I doubt I would have been able to convey what I would want in a hairstyle. So I just didn’t go and ignored the problem. Ostrich mode. I highly recommend it. Not.
But no more. I finally went and got my haircut. Hello new me!
I cut off 12 inches of hair. My head feels so much lighter and all that hair will be put to good use as I’m donating it.
Maybe that’s what I’ll use as excuse in the future when I’m too chicken to cut my hair in a foreign country. Too bad you all know my secret now.