In a burst of rare courage mixed with extreme idiocy, I decided last week to do something different with my hair. It has been the same for so many years already: Long, wavy, naturally tousled. A bit messy, if you will. But I believe my hair was my security blanket. In a society where super-straight hair is all the rage, my big hair is my badge. I got compliments with my hair mostly on days when I didn’t do much with it.

Then the urge to do something new hit me. I’m now contemplating hard why I didn’t just buy a shirt or maybe shoes to feed this need. I was thinking maybe, as a married woman, I need a change (as if changing my own address and name aren’t enough). So there goes the 7 inches of my crowning glory. Not realizing the aftermath will be painful enough, I had hair treatment that zapped all the natural waves gone. Gone. Gone.

I. Miss. My. Big. “Messy”. Hair. Now I’ve learned albeit the hard way: don’t fix it if it ain’t broken!