My Hair (not poetry)

I think I'm about to do this think for real now. I promised someone that I would grow my hair, to me that meant a lot of things. That meant that I would love myself the way he loves me, nothing artificial, just me for me. It meant that unlike my past self I would not chop my hair each time a person walked out of my life (because he is not going anywhere and honestly he's never gone anywhere, I'm the one that has done the leaving). So I promised to pour some love into my hair, to grow it like our relationship, to spend some quality time getting to know me as he had done and to love myself for whatever I discovered on the journey. He came to visit me this past weekend and before he came I did some cleaning. Fun and painful going through old memories, throwing things that needed to be thrown, keeping what needed to be kept. Letting go, lightening my load. I let a lot of things go and it felt soooo good, even the hurt felt good because it was a new kind of pain, not the old kind. The kind of pain that you get when you pour alcohol on a wound, the "germ killing" pain that does you more good than harm and lets you know that your wound will heal. So after throwing away some old things I realized today that I'm still hanging on to one old thing, my permed hair. It looks like my heart used to look until the healing process began, dry, shiny, non-cooperative with the new goodness that is growing out of my scalp. So tonight I am going to go home and cut this shit outta my head. I'm going to do my favorite things and color my hair a happy color and I'm going to revel and roll in my new found hair.