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Welcome Back, Bun

Half a year ago I cut off 20 inches of my hair, and was left with hair shorter than it's been since I was a toddler.

Previous to this drastic haircut, my hairdo three days out of four was a bun--whether fancy and intricately placed or messy and held with an elastic, it was my do.

A friend of mine, Jessie, once cut her enormously curly and chocolatey brunette hair clean off, and told me afterwards, "I was getting to the point where I felt like my hair defined me. People spotted me in a crowd based on my hair. I needed to throw them off, show them I was more than my hair."

While a little dramatic, I really loved her statement, and I suppose that was part of my inspiration for chopping my locks.

But I'll be honest. After the novelty wore off and a month passed by, I started to pine for my long, long hair. When it started to get messy or get in the way while cooking or caring for my baby, I'd run my fingers through the strands to pull it up and out of the way, only to be met with an abrupt halt as my locks fell and my fingers met air before anything could be pulled out of the way. And I was left bun-less.

Today, today, today was the first day since then that I could pull my hair up and out of the way again into a delightfully tiny, round blob on the top of my head. And getting that bun back, well, I feel like I got a piece of my old self back, too.


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