10:30, Monday morning, finally. I'm finally chopping off my locks. It took months of plucking up the courage, but today's the day. Whilst I stand in the shower, I remind myself it will be the last time these ends ever get a condition, so I lovingly massage the conditioner in - they've been good to me, so I feel I owe them this one last time.
As I make my way over to my Auntie's, I try to mask my fear by singing Grown Woman at the top of my voice but there's this nervousness looming at bay. I've been growing my hair for years, and years, it's become my comfort blanket - am I making a huge mistake? Panics definitely setting in.
Well too late, by 11:30, the first lock of my hair has been chopped off and there is no going back. I expected to be crying about now, but oddly enough, there's no regret at this point, instead excitement rushes through me as I watch the hair pile up of the floor. I'm free. I feel so free. My head already feels lighter, I'm not having to haul round heavy locks anymore.
My Auntie offers to put all the hair she cut off in a bag to take home, and whilst I want to scream "yes, yes, yes", I politely refuse, realising that the only way I'm going to get through this is just to say goodbye now - a clean break, or cut.
It's only late afternoon at 5:00, as I attempt to style the new do, that an ounce of regret rears it's ugly head. It's so thick now, that I'm finding it impossible to curl. But I manage. It'll take a bit of getting used to, but I factored this into the pros and cons list. And by 6:00, I've splashed a selfie across my social media - I quite like my new do, if I do say so myself.
I know that these photos don't even make my hair look that short, but I had a good 5/6 inches cut off, and thats an awful lot to me. So would you risk the cut?