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I remember when this theme came to me - cutting my hair, watching it fall to the floor, feeling relief and melancholy. I enjoy my hair when it starts to grow out, soft and interesting and complex with curls and waves. But I was not on the path towards locks and prefer the low-maintenance of a standard fade... Still, it felt like a waste - to just sweep it up and throw it away. Does anyone have a use for those few grams of curls? Maybe I was regretting that no one else enjoyed them - and now they are gone.

I felt much more naked than usual after that haircut. I couldn't shake feeling like I was a sheared sheep whose wool was taken but never put to good use. But is that the measure of my worth? Then I allowed myself to enjoy the freshness, the exposure, the lack of distraction....  Being shorn reveals - the question I needed to ask was "Now, do you see something beautiful?" Beauty is not measurable. And it was always there.
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