Chop Chop Chop!

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Today I wanted to laugh at my title. Chop Chop Chop! It so happens that my mom used to pronounce the verb to shop that way. "I wanna go Chopping with you", she would say. Now, she is getting better and a big Hispanic accent is nothing to laugh about (Unless you are Sofia Vergara, then you can go laugh all the way to the bank) but well. Last week I went Chopping.

I went Chopping for a new image. This year I have dedicated a lot of time to make sure others are doing ok, which is fine, many have also been making sure I'm fine, yet I felt now was the time to do something just for me. In this case, doing something for me meant chopping my waist length natural hair.



As any good psychologist (or fashion magazine editor) worth your insurance money can tell you, cutting your hair is a liberation ritual where one seeks to change directions, it is like spring cleaning for your head; follicular therapy I call it.

I think it is the first time I have actually cut my hair short and haven't regretted it immediately after, for the first time I acknowledge that I'm way to lazy to comb my hair in the morning, let alone untangle it for half an hour then fight with a hair dryer and curling iron just to give it that "I just woke up but my waves still look awesome style." Instead I used to settle for the old "I hope it stays put top bun" that makes me look like a college chick, and not even a cool one, just a lazy one.

So now, even when I look a too much like a potential lesbian with my new edgy cut, and even when I still wish I could trade my pin flat hair for my brother's sultry waves (yeah, bastard has those) I'm still quite happy with my decision. I realized that regret often comes from not being honest with myself and although this haircut is not particularly glam, girly or people pleasing as I would like to be, it is practical, messy and a little bad-ass, which is, I think, a little closer to who I'm.