I chopped my hair off on Sunday. After almost 2 years of talking myself out of doing it I fuckindidit.

I have been wanting short hair for I can't even remember how long. I kept giving myself excuses of why I shouldn't.

I needed to lose 10 more pounds. I wouldn't be as pretty if I had short hair. I would look like a boy. The Chef wouldn't think I was hot anymore. My face would look fat...

After having one of the worst months of my life I said fukitall and went to the salon. In my 20's I had a pixie cut and I always loved the ease of it, I loved the simplicity of my look. Back then, I was proud to have short hair. 

But somehow in between now and then I lost the confidence in myself that came so easily to me. I now depended on my hair for confidence, my long hair became my identity. I think as women it's so easy to use our hair as a crutch. We feel more feminine when our hair is long and our confidence shines. Why is that? Why can't I feel like a girl with short hair? Why do I automatically think I look ugly with short hair? Even now as I type this, in the back of my head, I secretly think I don't look as pretty as I did a week ago.

It's fucked up. I know. 

It's impossible not to feel the pressure of how we look in today's world. We are constantly told that we need to be thinner, our hair needs to be shinier, and our lips glossier. The trap of "what men want to look at" is set between the ever revolving door of Victoria Secret Fashion Shows and Maxim. I fall for it. Do you? For most of us, our hair acts as a buffer. It is a controllable that we set for ourselves. We may not be as skinny as Gisele but godamit our hair looks good.

As I contemplated cutting my hair, Lady Gaga's song "I am my hair" played over and over inside my head. I couldn't help but think of how my long blonde hair had become my identity, my brand. I couldn't get to the salon fast enough.

My hair is short now.

I didn't cry when my friend Erin cut it. I didn't freak out. I didn't feel less of a woman. Even though I see a different girl now when I look in the mirror, I know I am still here. I am still Amelia. The same girl still roars on the inside, she just looks a little different on the outside. 

I am NOT my hair.