You ever wake up in the middle of the night because your own hair decided to attack you? Yeah, that was me last night. I was asleep, dreaming about something random, when suddenly: Ouch. I had somehow managed to twist myself in my own hair. And when I say "hair" I mean a loooot of hair. Itās so long now that it literally reaches my lower back, okay, letās be honest, my butt. xD Apparently, turning over in bed with hair that long is a dangerous sport. š I woke up a few times during the night basically wrestling with it, half asleep, trying to free myself. And of course, in the process, I ended up pulling a few strands out. Ouch again. As I sat there this morning, brushing through the endless waves, I couldnāt help but laugh. It made me remember a completely different version of me, the one who once had short hair, right around shoulder length.
Welcome to my Short Hair Era.
It happened a few years ago, one of those random late nights when logic goes out the window and chaos takes the wheel. š I couldnāt sleep, I had a train to catch early in the morning and my suitcase was already packed. Youād think Iād just relax, take a cup of coffee, right? Nope. I looked in the mirror, saw my long hair and thought "Hmmmā¦ maybe itās time for a little change".
So, like any normal, totally rational person (ha!), I grabbed a pair of scissors and went for it. I cut it short. Really short. And not only that; I gave myself bangs too. xD Ouch x 3.
Because apparently, when I commit to bad decisions, I go all in.
Letās just say the result wasā¦ well, you can see it yourself. I looked like a child who found and used the not so well hidden kitchen pizza scissors.
The next day, I came home with my brand new self-made hairstyle.
The reactions? Priceless. My mom and sister were laughing for a bit.
My dad stared like I had just announced I was joining a circus.
And my boyfriend (now fiancĆ©), oh, he was not amused. He loved my long blonde hair. My dad, too. They both looked at me like I had betrayed them personally. š¬
Meanwhile, my mom and sister were trying their best to be supportive. Mom said smth like: "Wellā¦ itās your hair" which is mom-code for "You look insane but I still love you". xD
The whole thing became a family legend - "that one time she cut her hair at midnight before catching a train". Sounds like a movie title.
Luckily, my hair grows ridiculously fast. Like, superhero level fast. Within a month or two, it was already back to a decent length. By the time everyone stopped talking about it, it was practically back to normal. And they all made me promise never to do that again. Which I didā¦ and actually kept. Iāve been loyal to my long hair ever since, like I did before, no impulsive scissors, no middle-of-the-night experiments. Just long, flowing, blonde messy hair I don't care chaos.
Honestly, having long hair feels like a full-time job sometimes. It gets tangled, it sheds everywhere and when youāre half asleep, it tries to suffocate you. xD I canāt lie, it looks nice in photos, it feels soft and itās like a part of my identity. But sometimes, like last night, when I wake up with hair wrapped around my face, I start thinkingā¦ maybe short hair wasnāt so bad after all. It had its perks... quick drying time, no tangles, no hair getting caught in zippers or accidentally dipped in coffee or soup. It was simple, light and easy.
But thereās also something comforting about my long hair; like itās a part of me thatās grown through all my stages, moods and adventures. š„° So now Iām caught between nostalgia and practicality.
Would I look good with short hair again?
Would it still feel like me? Hmmm...
