Day Three

I'm walking around the house in an old tee.

It's been a long time, and I'm not sure whether this is going to end in regret.

I walked by the hairdresser, paused, and asked whether I could browse through their hair art magazines.

When the girl's scissors snipped off the first strand, it was too late to turn back.

I'm afraid of change. I like to buy sushi from the same place. I wear an old pair of ballet flats on the brink of falling apart. I can't bring myself to buy a bag that isn't tan, or a dress that isn't cream. I haven't taken off my ring.

But sometimes life changes whether you like it or not, and when it does, you could either struggle to keep everything the way you've always liked it, or you could let the current take you somewhere new.

When my friend and her boyfriend ended their long-term relationship, she got a tattoo.

I got a haircut.

And as if that wasn't anti-climax enough, it was a fringe. A subtle, sweeping fringe. When I got out of the hairdresser's chair there were about ten strands of hair on the floor. To somebody else, I could have walked into the salon, flipped through their magazines, threw my $20 onto the counter and left looking exactly I had before I went in.

I may have a tattoo one day, but as I always said - baby steps.