When I was a melancholy, dramatic, gum-smacking teen (no, assholes, I am not those things anymore), I placed a lot of significance on my hair. When my not-yet-diagnosed mentally ill ex-boyfriend broke up with me, after I peeled myself off the floor, I cut off all of my hair. Only because he had really liked my long hair. It made me feel better than I had in months.
I no longer place the same importance on hair as I once did, but yesterday I had a terrible day at work. I found out I lost a trial (my first big loss) and there was a major clerical error by one of the staff on another file that made me look like an idiot and may have made my case worse. So, just a general crappy day. The kind that must be ended with a few glasses of wine.
I had scheduled an appointment to have my hair cut yesterday evening a few weeks ago. After work, I went to the salon and had maybe 4 inches cut. More than I had planned, but I was ready to remove remnants of my no good very bad day. And, you know what? It sort of worked. I left feeling better, lighter, less angry/annoyed. Could have been the warm Spring sun, too, but I can't help but feeling that a haircut is a good remedy for the blues.
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