I don’t like the notion that my identity is based on my hair. Somehow, it feels shallow or silly to think that my image of myself could be affected by something as superficial as hair. In fact, to prove that I was above this, I hacked off my mane shortly after my mom died and my second daughter was born. In retrospect, that was a pretty intense time to make such a bold decision, and I wouldn’t recommend doing drastic things to your hair when you’re in a grief-riddled hormone storm. As my pixie cut (not my best look) grew out over the next few years, I realized my identity and my hair may be woven together more than I had been willing to admit. READ MORE
