Recently my beautiful little girl went from this:
She was...and still is...a very, happy little girl who loves her new look.
And people have asked,
"Why did you let her do it? Why would you let her cut off all of that gorgeous hair?"
First and foremost...it's her head, not mine.
Secondly...it's just hair, and it will grow back.
Really I let her do it because of this:
"Jan. 1, 1988 ... I have long brown hair that I think is my only vanity."
That is quite literally the fourth sentence in my first journal.
It's also the only nice thing I say about my appearance in any of my journals.
(I might be wrong, I've only reread through my college years, but I know myself and I'm 99% sure this is true.) Pages upon pages upon pages are devoted to what's wrong with my appearance, and the only nice things I ever say about myself are about my hair.
Yes, it is incredibly sad.
It's also infuriating.
I want better for my girls.
I want them to know they are beautiful because they just are.
I want them to know that they are more than their looks.
I want them to have fun with their femininity...and all of the crazy things that go along with that.
I want them to be free of societal expectations.
I want them to believe in themselves...in their WHOLE selves.
And yes, I want them to know that a bad hair day or a bad haircut isn't the end of the world.
So I let her cut her hair.
Goodness bless, she'll have it better than I did...of that, I am sure.