I big chopped tonight. Well, technically, my dad did it. But it's been done. Before (this was at my birthday back in March, the last time I had a relaxer.): After: How it happened: I was driving home from Hayward with my mom, and I couldn't stop touching my roots, which have grown steadily. I decided I wanted to see them. Me: I think I'm gonna do it tonight. Cut off my hair. Mom: What? Why? Like a man? You'll look masculine. Me: I'm too pretty to look masculine. Mom: I wouldn't do it. Me: But... you had an afro for 6 years when you were in your 20s. Mom: I know. But I like your hair the way it is now. Those who know me know I like to be contrary, so that settled it. When we got home, it was time to recruit my dad to do the cutting. That went like this. Me: Are you ready?! Dad: For what? Me: To cut my hair. Dad: Sure. Gimme five minutes. About half an hour later, we were done. One of our classic family stories (you know, the kind you know by heart, even though you were too little to remember it happening) is the time my mom went to Jamaica, and my dad and I went to Virginia to see his family when I was two. He couldn't manage my hair, so he cut it short like a little boy's. Needless to say, Mom was upset. Tonight had a certain ... symmetry. I'm too full of thoughts right now to tell you exactly how I'm feeling, but maybe I'll have a better handle on it later. I will say that I like it.