Give me head with hair

I had long beautiful hair. Shining. Steaming. Gleaming. Flaxen. Waxen.

And I cut it off. It barely covers my ears. My earrings hang below my hair. You can see my neck in the back!

My brother told me that if he'd been dating me, he would have broken up with me over it. But then, I've never been cute enough for my brother's league. (Not that I'd date my brother, but his clear and consistent condemnation of women who look like me has sent me a clear signal.)

My ex forbid me to cut my hair. And, of course, I went along with it. But it was a huge mistake. Neither of us realized it, at the time, but it had the result of ordering me to "let myself go." I cut my hair about a month after we broke up, and he was SO much more attracted to me after I did that.

Since then, I've cut off 6 inches 3 times and only grown about 6 inches back, so it is about a foot shorter than it was this time last year. And I'm cuter than I've ever been. Tonight I even put a picture of me, without any makeup, on the vanilla dating site I'm on.

To the extent that I am vain, I'm vain about my hair. For years, my hair was the only thing I thought was attractive about me. It was weird to watch it fall, in long locks around me. It was kind of scary while it was all wet. No body. Thin little strands, snipping, falling, flocking around the floor. And then unceremoniously swept into a dust bin to be thrown in the trash. All that preening. All that sense of self.

I think most men prefer long hair. But I also think long hair has a way of distracting. Instead of noticing me, you notice my hair. This is shorter, bouncier, perkier. But less glamorous. And that's OK.

For years, I defined myself by my career and my hair. I watched my career fall apart, and even as it has come back, it has come back to a different position in my life. It is part of me, not an all-defining albatross. Something I can wear lightly, and know that it isn't everything. My hair seems to be moving into that space as well.