So, I had my hair cut really short. I'd promised on Instagram that I'd share a photo of my new style, but the story behind my short hair is long, and I haven't written it yet (I will). For now, I'd been toying with the idea of chopping all my hair off, but never feeling quite brave enough, until the day we flew back from the States. And then, with two hours of plane sleep in the previous thirty hours, I had my hair cropped pixie style.
Maybe the foggy, jetlagged brain was necessary to take this big step – I can't say. But what struck me is how easy it all was, compared to my worse fears, to hear the snip-snip of the scissors and see my long locks tumbling onto the white floor. And how easy it was to get used to this new me with eight inches less of hair. Because after all, it was only hair, and inside I'm still the same me as I was before.