After several years of sassy side ponytails, braids, buns, curls, headbands, fun chalk color, feathers, and clip-on extensions, my fashionista daughter’s hair needed some serious repair.
We go to the salon today, and the stylist diagnoses the hair using the words breakage, damage, brittle, dry, and worn out.
“Let’s start fresh and let it all heal.”
We opt for a very short inverted bob. “With side bangs,” the little one insists. We trade in very long hair for a brand new short look.
(By the way, I ask her if I can post pictures, and she asks me not to. Children have rights, too, fellow bloggers. I did find a picture to show you what this cut looks like here.)
As the stylist talks about starting fresh, I think about all the broken or damaged parts of myself I carry around in my own head. Why do I keep accommodating certain memories or emotions? Why gather them up in some slick ribbon and arrange them at all?
Why not just start fresh and let go with a whole new me?
I think of the new creation we are in God. I think of how the old has gone and the new has come. It’s gone, as gone as cut hair falling all around us and disappearing as it’s swept far away.
We have a new self, so let’s wear it.
I love new haircuts. Have you ever gone from very long to very short?